


Can You Hear Me?

by MelodyIsChaotic



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17325941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyIsChaotic/pseuds/MelodyIsChaotic
Summary: You were in your element when you stood on a stage. You could confidently sing the melody, serenely take the harmony, basking in the attention and relishing in the feel of your heels hitting the stage and the strain of your vocal cords.You'd been singing for fours years, but the best career decision you'd made was joining up with Mettaton for several duets. You often performed with the monster, and he'd become your best friend, but despite his constant pestering you had yet to meet the rest of his friends.*Authors Note*I originally started this story in 2016, posting it to Wattpad, but never finished. I've recently regained my writing mojo, and decided to rewrite and edit.





	1. Opening Act

The crowd was deafening. 

You stood backstage, nerves singing through you, hands twisting together. You shook you hands out and smoothed out your skirt for the umpteenth time— a fidgety movement made to try to calm down. An effort in futility really. But you weren’t just nervous— you were excited too. 

The crowd roared as the song ended, leaving them in a frenzy of excited energy as they anticipated the next. Your heart pounded against your ribs, exhilaration flooding your system. You bounced impatiently on the balls of your feet, taking a few deep breaths and adjusting your ear mic. It was almost time.

“Knock them dead, (y/n),” your manager, Chris, grinned, giving you a solid thumbs up. You grinned and hopped onto the platform that would soon launch you onto the stage. You couldn’t wait. The few second before starting a performance were always your favourite. The thrum of energy flooding your system, the roar of the crowd in the distance. The anticipation of the lights, the music, the dance. You didn’t care that your nerves were shot or that your hands were shaking. 

This was your life.

The stage director gave the signal and you heard the hiss of smoke machines above you. The crowd went wild as the next song picked up, most recognizing it by the first few notes. The platform under you jerked, and you quickly struck the proper pose. The sound of the crowd grew deafening, the lights nearly blinding you. You kept perfectly still, despite the slightly uncomfortable pose, waiting until the platform jerked to a stop. The music picked up, and perfectly in time with your partner in crime you started singing. Mettaton’s voice harmonized perfectly with yours, and the crowd loved it. He’d been performing solo before your entrance— this was his concert after all— but you’d performed so many duets with the robot monster in the past that it was almost unheard of for one of you to have a concert without an appearance from the other. 

Once the intro was over you and Mettaton began to dance. You knew the steps by heart, and although you couldn’t move as fluidly as the robot, you could certainly dance. Mettaton took over the chorus as you concentrated on harmonizing and dancing. It all required so little effort on your part— all the hours you’d spent committing the routine to memory certainly paying off. You didn’t even need to think; everything was muscle memory. 

You started on the second verse, bopping and swaying in time with Mettaton, who effortlessly kept time. You spun and twisted through the second verse with the metallic monster; dancing together, pulling apart, and twirling together once again. The steps were complicated, the melody challenging, the tempo fast and unrelenting, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It was one of your favourite duets. Moving into the second chorus, the two of you sung in harmony, Mettaton’s flexible tenor blending perfectly with your mezzo-soprano. 

You struck a pose in sync with Mettaton as the song finished and took a second to relax slightly and breath as the crowd, full of both humans and monsters, went crazy. Mettaton blew the ecstatic crowd a kiss, then flounced off the stage to take a small break, leaving you to start the next song alone. 

Proudly you hit every note, every beat, in perfect sync with the accompaniment. Mettaton rejoined you for the next duet¬— a sultry number that had the two of you waltzing across the stage, both together and apart. You were in your element, confidently singing the melody, serenely taking the harmony. You basked in the attention and relished in the feel of you heels hitting the stage, the strain of your vocal cords, and the heat of the lights. And you loved every minute of it. 

All too soon the concert was over. You bid your goodbyes to the crowd, resisted the urge to stay and preform another encore, plastered a genuine smile to your face, and scampered off the stage. You were greeted by the crew as soon as you were out of the audience’s sight, passing through numerous smiles and affirmations of success. You weren’t tired per say, still riding the high that came with a concert, but you were parched, and you throat felt scratchy and dry. That last number you’d done always pushed your vocals to the limits, which was a blessing and a curse when you sung it last. 

You spotted the refreshment table and a water bottle with your name on it, but was intercepted by a massive, rather crushing, robot hug. 

“Darling you were absolutely faboulous!” Metttaton squealed, rubbing his cheek against yours. 

“Thanks, Mettaton!” you managed to gasp. Mettaton was always one for hugs, but frankly his strength sometimes got the better of you. You figured that, in his excitement, he forgot you were squishy compared to him. “You were pretty fabulous yourself.”

He released you from the crushing hug and grabbed your hands, spinning you around in an excited circle. “That was one of our best performances to date! Did you see that crowd? They were absolutely raving! They love you darling!”

You let out a laugh, a faint, embarrassed blush dotting your cheeks. “You always say that! Besides, I think they were more excited to see you then me.”

“Nonsense!” Mettaton retorted, letting out a gasp of shock. “They adore you!”

You laughed again. “Alright fine, they were excited to see both of us.” Mettaton pouted but didn’t argue further. Despite the praise heaped on you by Mettaton and your fans, you hadn’t gotten any better at accepting it. It was just one of those things. 

Desperate for a sip of water, you freed your hands from Mettaton’s and hooked an arm through his, leading him towards the refreshment table as he suddenly changed the subject. “That reminds me darling, you simply must come to my little party tonight!” 

“I thought you were just going to a friends house?” you questioned, cracking open a water bottle and taking a healthy sip. Must better.

“Darling, every get together I attend is a party.”

Ah, of course. You resisted rolling your eyes. You’d been invited to this ‘party’ a few days ago but hadn’t been intending to go, and already told him as much. Well, no, that wasn’t true. You wanted to go but couldn’t. “Mettaton…” you sighed.

“I know, but I thought I’d give you the chance to reconsider,” he shrugged, a bit of his bubbly persona slipping away. “It really isn’t anything serious, and I know they’d all absolutely love to meet you.”

You frowned again, taking another drink to delay answering. You really did want to meet his friends. Mettaton had told you a great deal about them and they all sounded like amazing monsters. Apparently one of them was your biggest fan. But there lay the problem. They were monsters. You didn’t have a problem with monsters, not at all. You best friend was one after all. But your brother, Peter, stubbornly refused to let you go, and you didn’t want to lie to him.

You shouldn’t lie to him.

“I can’t Mettaton.” You sighed again. “I’m sorry.”

Mettaton sighed too, a look that was almost pity crossing his face. “He wouldn’t let you come over for just a few hours?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Mettaton sighed, and you deflated. You felt like a jerk and were disappointed in your lack of confidence in this matter. Peter was fine with monster involvement in work, but he hesitated when it came to interacting with them outside of work. 

Mettaton took a deep breath, and his gorgeous smile returned. “Don’t worry about it darling! I’m sure you’ll make it next time!” He said that last time too. And the time before that. And the time before that. Ever the optimist he was. You didn’t share his optimism but smiled back anyway. 

“I’ll talk to him about it.” You offered, Mettaton rewarding you with a grin. He was going to add something but was interrupted by his phone ringing. It was a ridiculous theme, something to do with spaghetti, and you wondered why he even had it programmed as a ringtone. He gave you a little finger wiggle and a wink before turning away.

“Pap, honey! What can I do for you?”

You were pretty sure Pap was Papyrus, one of those friends Mettaton always talked about. You turned away and tuned him out, heading for the changing rooms so you could get into casual clothes; i.e. a (f/c) knit sweater over dark blue jeans. You topped it off with a plain brown flat cap which you tucked your (h/c) under as a bit of a disguise, and plain black converse. 

When you entered the main area again, Mettaton pounced on you for another quick hug. “Well darling, I have to go! My rides awaiting, and I don’t want to miss it!” As quick as he’d come, he was flouncing towards the exit, disappearing out the door with nothing but a finger wiggle wave.

You wandered back to the refreshment table and grabbed something to snack on as you waited for your own ride to arrive.


	2. Selling a Soul for a Joke

Snacks in hand you flopped into the nearest empty chair you could find, settling down for a bit of a wait. Peter wasn’t late, you’d given yourself plenty of cushion time after the concert. Too much cushion time. Chris found you a few minutes later to quickly debrief you on the concert and go over your schedule for the next week. It didn’t take long though, less then ten minutes, before he wandered off and you were left with your thoughts. While the prep and concert were always extremely bust, the time after wasn’t for you. It was mostly the crew cleaning and clearing people out. You’d offer to help, but you knew from experience you’d just be shooed away and told you’d already done enough.

Your phone buzzed, signaling a text. It was a photo of Mettaton, making a frowny face with a wild group of monsters in the background. You could only put a few names to the faces. The text that followed read ‘Wishing you were here darling!’ You never could figure out how he got home so quickly sometimes. You smiled as you fired back a sad emoji, then realized your mood was following as your smile fell. You wanted to go, but you couldn’t. And as much as you wanted to shift all the blame onto Peter, you knew that wasn’t fair. Truth be told you were afraid. You’d had numerous bad experiences meeting and keeping friends in the past and didn’t want a repeat. 

It didn’t help that you started your career at a young age, when many were at their most selfish. You didn’t realize at the time, but many of them of those who befriended you only did so for the perks. Their true colours weren’t revealed unfortunately until your parents passed away and you fell into a state of despair. You stopped singing and found out then that many of your ‘friends’ were only superficial. Those that weren’t had long since left— intimidated by the lime light of scared off by the superficial. 

When you returned to singing so did the superficial, but by then you knew better. Or so you thought. But the damage had been done, and you were more cautious of everyone that tried to befriend you. 

Mettaton had been a blessing and a curse in that respect. When he first suggested performing a duet you were hesitant. Not because he was a monster but because of his personality. He was… outgoing, to say the least. And flamboyant. And loud. Ten minutes after meeting you for the first time he declared that you were “his new best friend, darling!” and wouldn’t listen to any of your protests.

At first you just played along, thinking he’d lose interest, but after a few follow up meetings his prediction came true. Now, even though you’d only known him for four months, he was your closest friend. You could tell him anything. 

Except this.

You didn’t want to disappoint Mettaton any more then you already had. You’d met some of his friends already in passing— Papyrus, Undyne and Frisk attended a previous event of Mettaton’s, and you’d been introduced as you were running out the door. They seemed wonderful, if a little loud but you were afraid. What if they didn’t like you? What if they only wanted to be friends with the person they saw on screen? Or the one Mettaton no doubt built you up to be?

You didn’t want to disappoint Mettaton any more then you already had. You’d met some of his friends already in passing— Papyrus, Undyne and Frisk attended a previous event of Mettaton’s, and you’d been introduced as you were running out the door. They seemed wonderful, if a little loud but you were afraid. What if they didn’t like you? What if they only wanted to be friends with the person they saw on screen? Or the one Mettaton no doubt built you up to be?

You heaved a sigh. Honestly you were disappointed in yourself. Sure, throw you on a stage in front of hundreds of strangers and you’d shine— put you in a room with a few people you’d probably like to be friends with? Goodbye courage.

Your phone blipped, signaling a text. Peter had arrived, right on time. You collected your things and trotted out the door, waving to a few familiar faces on the way. Peter parked just down the alley, which had been blocked off at both ends to allow an easy get away for easily recognizable faces: i.e. you and Mettaton. Since Peter was your ride all he had to do was flash a pass and submit to a quick search and drive on through. You jumped into the passenger seat and shut the door, barely buckling your seat belt before he sped off.

You waited until you were past the barricade and on the road way before attempting to breach the silence. “Thanks for picking me up.”  
“No problem,” he answered. “How was the concert?”

“Amazing! It went really well,” you beamed.

“So… you didn’t trip and land on your butt?”

“No. Why would I have?”

“Damn,” he said, casting you a woeful look. “I owe someone ten bucks.” You made an offended noise and smacked at his shoulder. Repeatedly. “Hey, hey, hey! Trying to drive here!”

“I can’t believe you bet on something like that!”

“That’s hardly the worst thing I’ve bet on and you know it.” 

You shot him the stink eye, but you couldn’t put much venom into it. You’d known about this particular game for a while. Peter and his drinking buddies liked to bet on what unfortunate thing would happen to you during any kind of public event. It was all in good sun of course, incidents ranging from tripping to a wardrobe malfunction to an interruption. Sometimes, if you were able to figure out who bet what, you’d purposely do something none of them bet on so they’d all lose. 

“I’ll have you know I performed perfectly,” you huffed.

He tsked. “Shit, Phil gets bragging right until next month.”

“I just said I did perfectly!”

“Which means you missed a few of the high notes.”

You opened your mouth to rebut him but couldn’t find the words. He was right. This time it was your turn to tsk. “Well better Phil than you.”  
“Ouch. That hurts, little sis.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, then turned your attention to your phone. A text had come in during that little exchange. Another picture— Mettaton only taking up the bottom right corner of the screen, the scene behind him chaotic. You weren’t sure what lead up to it, but it looked like several monsters were engaged in battle. It was a bit blurry, but you could make out the blue Undyne standing on a couch brandishing a spear, while the lanky Papyrus was dueling her with a bone. You bit back a smile as you texted back.

y/n: Should I be worried?

Mettaton: Only if something breaks.

Mettaton: Oops, too late. Something broke. 

You snickered, sending back an emoji that executed an appropriate response. Despite not being there, Mettaton always including you in the group. You appreciated that. “Looking at your reflection?” Peter teased. “Sorry to break it to you but nothing is going to help with,” he gestured to your face. “That whole situation.”

“No, I was just selling my soul. I probably should have consulted you first though, to make sure I got a good deal. Wouldn’t want to make your mistakes.”

“You forget that I never had a soul in the first place.”

“You realize you just burned yourself.”

“Did I?”

You rolled your eyes and shook you head. What a dummy. As soon as he parked you jumped out of the car, heading for the elevator without waiting. Peter made it into the elevator before you could get the doors to close, shoulder chucking you as he entered. You were distracted from getting your revenge when you got another text, distracting you. A follow up picture from Mettaton— once again he only took up the bottom right corner of the frame (because of he had to be in the image of course), Undyne and Papyrus sitting in the background. In front of them was a tall goat monster who appeared to be scolding them. About the spears and bones that jutted out of the floor, walls and ceiling. The after math of chaos. 

Mettaton: Goat mom to the rescue! Drama canceled

Mettaton: Though the dramas never truly canceled when I’m around :3

He wasn’t wrong. As good of a mood the text left you it didn’t last. You wished you could have been there. As you followed Peter to the apartment you were filled with determination. “Hey Peter…”


	3. Bad Decisions Taste Like Cherry

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Peter sighed. Again.

“So you’ve said,” you mutter into your knees. You were curled up on the couch in the living room, watching peter as he puttered around the kitchen. In and out of view. Opening and closing cupboards and the fridge. “But I know Mettaton. I trust him.” 

“So you’ve said.”

Over and over. Just as he had cautioned you against such a thing over and over. You didn’t want to fight about this again. Didn’t want to rehash the same tired point. But you didn’t know what else to do. Sure you didn’t really need Peter’s permission, but you felt like you did. Something in your head just told you not to go without the okay.

“And I’ll say it again,” you muttered as Peter crossed from the kitchen to the living room, handing you a drink. You absentmindedly took a sip. Tasty. It was a fizzy, cherry flavoured thing that had a flavour only Peter could replicate. He concocted the thing after all. “He’s my friend and I know he couldn’t put me in danger.”

“Are you sure? You’ve only known it for four months. How can you be sure it won’t do anything? Or put you in a dangerous situation?” He didn’t sit, just started pacing.

“He, not it.” Despite your constant reminders, Peter refused to refer to Mettaton as anything but ‘it’. Which was beyond annoying. Then again, he refused to refer to any monster by their proper pronoun. “And I do know. We’ve been alone plenty of times during work and he’s never done anything.” Beyond being fabulous and flamboyant. “You’d think if he wanted to harm me, he would have already.”

“Key phrase there being at work. If it did anything in those situations, you’d have called for help. What if it’s just waiting to get you completely alone? What if these other monsters are in on it?”

“What are they going to do, sacrifice me to their dark overlords?” you quipped, taking another sip from your drink. You meant the remark sarcastically, but the look Peter shot you said he thought they might. 

“Monster’s haven’t been on the surface for very long—” 

“Long enough to establish themselves on the surface. And to be recognized as their own, intelligent species. And to be given rights equal to humans.” They got a lot done in a year. Very impressive. You kept sipping.

Peter glared at you. “But there are still so many unknowns. There must have been a reason they were locked under the mountain in the first place, yet they won’t tell us why.”

“Wow, it’s almost like, like humans forgot and they don’t want to remind us because we’re currently at peace.” Another drink as you rolled your eyes.

“Doesn’t that sound like a red flag to you?”

“No. So what if it was something terrible? It’s not like humans have a clean record either. Do you know how many twisted ways we’ve devised to kill each other? Or torture? History doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture.”

“But that information is available.”

“And they’ve shared their basic history. They let humans into the Underground now too— they aren’t exactly hiding.”

“But what about what they are hiding?”

“How do you know they’re hiding anything?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. There was just no getting through to him. He was a stubborn as an ox. You took a long sip of your drink, then stifled a yawn. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you (y/n),” Peter sighed, finally taking a seat beside you. “You understand, that right?”

“I know,” you huffed, yawning again. Your eyelids drooped a bit.

“I just want you to be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore,” you muttered. 

“I know,” he smiled. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“I guess.”

Peter pulled the half-finished drink from your hands, ruffling your hair. “Just wait a few more weeks, okay? It isn’t going to hurt.”

“A few more weeks probably won’t hurt.”

“And you’ll talk to me before you try to go?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you first.” You didn’t want to.

“Good. Now go to bed— you look about ready to fall over.”

 

The next three weeks were business as usual. You followed your usual routine— a combo of working and relaxing that varied depending on your schedule. Peter was in town, so you saw a lot more of him. You mostly did you own things, but occasionally got dinner or watched a movie or taunted each other relentlessly. It was nice. It was normal.

At the end of the third week, Peter left once again for work. He was a chemist at this huge pharmaceutical company— Malum Pharma, which dealt with experimental drugs for all kinds of diseases. They didn’t have a central lab where you lived, so Peter had to travel a lot. Three weeks off, four weeks on. You didn’t miss him when he left, knowing he’d be back and you could take care of yourself. But you worried. He was your brother after all.

But then he was gone, on the next flight to wherever. An early flight, on a rare Friday you didn’t have work. So, you spent the day pampering yourself and getting stuff done around the house. You showered and changed into your comfiest clothes and participated in some of your favourite activities that required no movement at all for the better part of the morning. Reading, video games, binge watching your favourite show— the possibilities were endless. 

You continued lounging well past lunch, and after a lovely nap you started cleaning. Blasting your favourite music through the halls you boogied and sang your way through the dusting, tidying, vacuuming and mopping, enjoying yourself despite the tedious task. Once everything was sufficiently sparkling you flopped back onto the couch and tried to decide what you were going to do with your evening. 

The most important decision of all; pizza or Chinese. 

As you dug from takeout menus, your phone chirped. You’d been ignoring it all day— how could you relax if you were answering emails and texts about work? You scuttled around looking for it for a moment (trust you to forget where you left the darn thing) and spotted a new text. From Mettaton. Actually, a few missed texts from him. Welp. 

Mettaton: Karaoke night tonight! No doubt his pick. Care to join?

Mettaton: It’s with the usual group of AMAZING monsters, in case you were wondering

Mettaton: Or ignore me that’s fine :(

Mettaton: Is Peter being a butt about it?

Mettaton: Tell him I think he’s a butt

Mettaton: JK

Mettaton: But seriously

You laughed as you checked the time stamp. The last one came through roughly an hour ago. Well, the last before the picture that alerted you to the string of texts. Mettaton posed in the foreground with a duckface and a peace sign, the background showcasing Papyrus and Undyne singing their hearts out into microphones with cords trailing to the TV.

Mettaton: Bet we could out sing any of these noobs :D

You snickered and poised your thumbs to text back. At least Mettaton kept you in the loop despite you track record and lack of response. You adored the stories he told you of their shenanigans, felt like you were part of the group despite none of them knowing you. But you were still watching from the sidelines, a casual observer.

A little rebellious idea took root in your mind. 

Another thought forced it back, forced your focus away. You shook it off, considering your reply.

Another ping, another text.

This time Mettaton was posing dramatically with Frisk. He held a microphone, while it looked like the kid had probably just been dancing along. Clearly, he’d gotten someone else to take the picture for him, it lacking his usual flair and focus. Was that a blurry thumb in the corner?

You laughed again, that little rebellious idea blooming. Suddenly filled with determination, you pushed away and lingering doubts and objections. Peter was wrong. You were wrong. You’d waited long enough, and you weren’t going to let another opportunity to make more friends pass you by. You weren’t going to let lingering nerves ruin this chance. 

Before you could rethink, you hit call on your phone and pulled it to your ear.

Mettaton answered on the first ring. “(y/n), darling,” he purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Jealous of all the fun I’m having?”

“Always,” you answered, moving for your room and digging through the closet. You couldn’t exactly show up in lounge wear. Or could you… “I was just wondering if you still had a karaoke slot open for me.”

Mettaton let out an audible gasp, followed by an excited squeal. He commanded those with him to be quiet in a muffled way that told you he’d put his hand over the mic. Someone must have cracked a joke or something, as suddenly a few of them burst out laughing. Mettaton tsked into the phone, and the background noise moved further away. “Of course, darling!” he finally answered. “Everyone would be ecstatic to meet you. But this is rather out of character… Peter finally give you the okay?”

You snort. “More like I finally grew a back bone. What he won’t know won’t kill him.”

Mettaton let out a metallic laugh. “Finally taking a walk on the wild side? Took you long enough! But don’t worry darling, my lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, Mettaton,” you smiled. You were glad to have an ally in all of this and didn’t berate you about your lack of confidence. “So, where am I going?”

“The Underground, darling. But worry not, I’ll send someone over to pick you up.” 

"Don’t worry about it, I can walk,” you answer, trying to decide between two tops. Your apartment building wasn’t too far from Mt. Ebott and the entrance to the Underground. About thirty minutes by bus and walking. You were pretty sure there was a bus that went right up the mountain now, to make it easier on those wanting to commute.

“Nonsense! It will only take him a moment.”

“I’m fine, really. I want to walk,” you insisted. 

Mettaton hummed but didn’t press the matter any further. After finding something to write on and with, Mettaton rattled off the address and directions through the Underground, and instructions to dress in layers. Lots of layers. Winter layers (which was weird, since it was basically summer.) But you complied, signing off with the ecstatic robot monster before getting ready with a bounce in your step. You threw on your favourite outfit (and ended up looking hella fine if you did say so yourself), grabbed some spare layers, and headed for the door. You hesitated only briefly as you snagged your purse, that little sliver of doubt working its way back into your mind.

Don’t go. It said. Check with Peter first. 

You shook it off and walked out, smile playing at your lips.


	4. In Which A War Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you finally join the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for copious amounts of puns. I regret nothing

Finally, after nearly an hour and a half of travel, you arrived at your destination. The bus ride up Mt. Ebott was fine and the walk to the Underground decent, the real problems not starting until you got into the actual Underground. Despite knowledge of its existence, you didn't know much about the land of monsters. Only what Mettaton told you. So, you hadn't realized that Snowdin was the fifth area in the Underground. Basically, as far away from the barrier and entrance as you could get. Mettaton had instructed you to take a small ferry to Snowdin, but of course you'd gotten lost and couldn't find where the thing even docked in Hotland. Before you even made it that far though you had to trek through the Castle, which was fairly straight forward, but the Core was insane. You'd gotten lost multiple times before finally finding Hotland, which is where you got really lost.

Not only was it blistering hot, forcing you to take off all the layers you piled on to avoid boiling, there were so many paths and dead ends you got completely turned around. You missed the elevator you were supposed to take, accidentally got off on the wrong floors twice, and the final nail in the coffin was when you got stuck in some giant spiders' web. It took twenty minutes to get yourself free, after some friendly spider monsters came to help. You still got a little turned around, but finally you found the path that would lead you to the ferry. The River Person happily agreed to take you down to Snowdin.

The ride was fairly silent and short, the River Person only speaking up once, giving you a cryptic message: "Tra la la. Beware of the man who speaks in hands." Something nudged the back of your mind. But it didn't make much sense, so you dismissed it for now.

Then you found yourself bundling back up as the air froze, and soon you were stepping off the ferry into a winter wonderland. You wondered who oversaw naming these places... Hotland was ridiculous hot, Snowdin was literally snowed in. Just a little too on the nose. You thanked the River Person before heading off, burying your hands into your pockets and ducking your nose under the edge of your scarf. With chattering teeth, you trotted through the snow, wondering why monsters still lived down here. You had to admit, it was beautiful, but you were pretty sure most monsters preferred to stay on the surface now. Something about having complete autonomous control over the area. Also, a good source of revenue, since humans really wanted a chance to visit, and would pay pretty much anything to get a tour.

You let yourself take five minutes to simply enjoy the scenery—it wasn't every day you saw evergreen trees this massive, snow this white. With another shiver, you set off, tromping through the snow towards your destination. It didn't take long, the path becoming easier to navigate once you left the outskirts and entered a quaint town. It was lovely, and not as deserted as you expected. Humans and monsters flitted about, the former staring with wide eyed wonder and the latter watching with careful curiosity. You kept your head tilted down, disposition warry. Just a regular old human, nothing to see here. You doubted anyone would recognize you, but you were tired and just wanted to get to where you were going. No swarming fans please. Not that you expected such an occurrence—you doubted you'd be recognized but... it was better safe then sorry.

After a few minutes of shivering you stopped in front of your destination. Last house on the lane, your notes said. You double checked as you took in the cozy looking house, eyes catching on the strings of lights bordering the roof, the wreath on the door. Festive. In June. You supposed it was because of the scenery. According to Mettaton, each area had its own pocket climate that didn't change much as the months passed by. Shadows passed in front of the windows, peals of laughter and the steady beat of music softly echoing through the walls. Go time.

...

Time to knock.

...

You took a deep breath. You could do this. No need to be nervous. They were just regular monsters, hanging out on a regular Friday. You glanced over at the two mail boxes sitting to the left of the house; one was completely empty, organized, the other stuffed full and overflowing with junk mail and fliers. Just regular monsters. Feeling determined, you knocked, then wait.

More laughter echoed through the door, and after a moment you realized no one probably heard you. You shook your hands out and knocked again, louder. This time someone heard.

"I think someone's at the door!"

"Ooooo, that must be our special guest!" You heard Mettaton coo from within. Definitely the right place.

"IS THAT WHO YOU WERE ON THE PHONE WITH?"

"Maybe~" Mettaton said, throwing open the door with a smile. "Darling, you made it! I was worried I'd have to organize a search party."

"Just about. I got a little lost. Did you know Hotland is extremely hot?" You smiled, earning you a dead pan stare and a bark of laughter from somewhere in the house. 

"You're officially uninvited," Mettaton drawled, closing the door on you.

"No wait," you laughed, pushing on the door rather helplessly. You knew if he really wanted to keep you out, he would. "I'm sorry!"

"METTATON, WHO IS AT THE DOOR?"

"YEAH! Stop blocking the door and let them IN already!"

"wood-n't want them to get frost bite."

"SANS, NOW IS NOT THE TIME!"

"door-n't be like that Paps."

"SANS."

"what? can't handle it?"

"SANS!"

"fine, fine. i didn't think this would be such an open and shut case."

You couldn't help it, you snorted, then quickly slapped your hands over your nose and mouth. You loved puns. They were your kryptonite. But you hated the snorting laugh it brought out in you. Luckily you weren't alone, as someone else in the depths of the house was snickering.

"UNDYNE, YOU HAVE MY EXPRESS PERMISSION TO SUPLEX MY BROTHER."

"Kick-ASsssss—I mean... heck yeah!"

"okay, okay, you've twisted my arm. you won't wrestle another pun out of me—waitnononoUndyneputmedown—"

"This is how it starts," Mettaton sighs, performing a dramatic one-handed face palm before abruptly spinning around. "Alright!" He clapped, regaining the rooms attention. "That's enough of that! Undyne, put the skeleton down—gently."

"FINE! But ONLY because your punk-guest can't see how AWESOME it would be from behind your metallic butt."

Sad but true.

With little warning and a quick motion Mettaton spun and caught you around the shoulder, simultaneously pulling you into the house and shutting the door behind you. You suddenly found yourself face to face with six monsters of varying appearances, all twelve (well, eleven and a half) sets of eyes focused on you. Your chest tightened at the sight of so many unfamiliar faces, nerves threatening to make you a wreck. So, you did what you always did when you were nervous—slipped into your performing persona. You were (y/n); singer, songwriter. You were confident, calm, polite maybe a little vapid. Simply put, you were amplifying the traits you wanted others to see in you while violently suppressing those you didn't. It was a subtle shift, one only a few people recognized at any given time, but it was a far cry from the jittery mess you were inside. You smiled, waving ever so slightly to the room.

"GASP!" Papyrus (who you now recognized), said, drawing your attention. You remember vaguely him being just as loud when you met previously. You'd forgotten, however, just how tall he was, and how startling it felt to come face to face with an actual skeleton. He was wearing casual black athletic pants with a white stripe down the leg, bright yellow and red shirt with a geometric pattern, red/orange gloves, and a red/orange scarf. "IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?" He slapped his hands against his cheekbones in excitement, smile blinding.

"Well," Mettaton purred. "Who do you think it is, darling?"

"clearly," another, significantly shorter skeleton piped up from the couch. You recognized his voice from the puns, which meant he was probably Papyrus' brother... Sans? If you'd been following the conversation correctly. He looked comfortable and lazy, wearing black basketball shorts, a white shirt, worn blue sweater, and pink slippers over white socks. He was smirking, a mischievous glint in his... eye sockets? Unlike Papyrus, who didn't seem to have eyes of any sort, this guy had a white dot in each eye. And currently you brain was telling you they were mischievous. Huh. "that's Mettaton."

"OH, OF COURSE IT IS." Papyrus answered like it was obvious, completely dismissing your presence in a moment and letting his hands drop. Sans' grin widened.

"but who's that beside Mettaton?"

"OH MY GOSH! ISN'T THAT...?"

"(y/n)," you offered. "It's a pleasure to see you again Papyrus."

Papyrus squealed by actually saying "SQEUAL!" in a high-pitched voice before sweeping you into a bone crushing hug. Your spine let out a concerning crack as the air was forced from your lungs in a whoosh. "YOU REMEMBERED! CLEARLY MY GREAT VISAGE MADE AN IMPRESSION! WHICH IS NOT SUPRISING, AS I AM VERY GREAT!"

As suddenly as the hug started it stopped, allowing you to draw in much needed oxygen. You did so politely, of course, as Papyrus held you in a half hug around your shoulder and spun you to face the group. "WELCOME TO SENIC MY HOME! (Y/N), THIS IS EVERYONE! EVERYONE, THIS IS (Y/N)!"

"Introduce us better than that, bone head!" You recognized Undyne immediately and connect her to the earlier conversation. She did indeed look like she could suplex someone with little trouble. She was tall, thin, and muscular, with blue scaly skin, fishy features, sharp teeth, an eyepatch and red hair. If you had to describe her in a word: Amazonian.

"OH RIGHT! THAT IS UNDYNE, WHO YOU HAVE MET BEFORE."

"Hello," you nodded.

"BESIDE HER IS ALPHYS!" A smallish, yellow dinosaur lizard with anime inspired attire and rounded glasses. Undyne had an arm thrown around Alphys' shoulder in a possessive and comfortable gesture. They were cute together. "IN THE CHAIR IS TORIEL AND FRISK!" Toriel nodded sagely as Frisk bounced excitedly. You remembered Frisk—their blue and purple sweater, jean shorts, runners, and brown bob the same as the last time you saw them. Even though Toriel was seated, you could clearly tell that she dwarfed everyone else in the room. She looked like some sort of goat monster with the softest looking white fur and kind eyes. "AND ON THE COUCH IS MY BROTHER, SANS!"

"yo," he says with a half smile, eyeing you a little.

"It's very nice to meet you all," you smile. "Or to see you again."

"MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME (Y/N)! AH! I SHOULD GET MY CAMERA SO WE CAN COMMEMORATE THIS JOYOUS EVENT!" And with that he was off, darting through the living room and up the stairs. He was like a whirlwind of pure, positive energy. Simultaneously exhausting and endearing. Some concerning thumps and crashes sounded from above.

"FUHUHU! Usually, he's a LOT more organized." Undyne comments when you glance up.

"He-he's just excited," Alphys added with a nervous stutter.

"It is not everyday you get to meet an idol." Toriel notes with a conspirators smile. Frisk bounces in the chair again, hands rapidly fluttering about. It took you a second to realize they were using sign language.

"They said 'he's your biggest fan!'" Mettaton translated.

"heh, guess you could say your causing quite the stir," Sans comments, watching for your reaction. "a real whirlwind of emotion."

Gosh darn it. This time you were more prepared for the puns, and didn't snort, but by gosh if it wasn't an uphill battle. (y/n), singer/songwriter, didn't snort. Toriel and Frisk laughed at the puns, the payoff for their set up clear. Toriel's laugh was gentle, kind, and Frisk laughed with their whole body instead of making a sound. Arms wrapped around their torso, shoulders shaking. You glanced at Mettaton, who crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, before allowing yourself to smile genuinely.

More clattering upstairs echoed. Papyrus appeared at the top of the stairs briefly to yell, "SANS I CAN HEAR YOU TORTURING OUR GUEST WITH YOUR HORRID PUNNERY FROM HERE! CEASE DOING SO IMMEDIATELY! ALSO! METTATON! WHERE DID YOU PUT MY CAMERA!?" before disappearing again. Mettaton winced as a particularly loud crash echoed from the upper floor, answering your worried glance with a shrug before leaning close.

"Just a word of advice, darling," he whispered, too quietly for anyone but you to hear. "But you'll make more friends here as yourself."

Of course, he of all people would notice. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, and when you glanced over, he winked before flouncing after the skeleton. You tried to take his advice, but it was hard. Silence descended, threatening to become awkward. Now that your familiar contact had abandoned you, you suddenly found you didn't know where to stand, or what to do with your hands. You didn't let that show though. Instead you searched for something to say that didn't sound superficial, when someone suddenly started up the game they'd been playing on the TV again, freeing it from the pause screen. Undyne yelped and let out a string of G-rated curses, scrambling for her controller before violently button mashing, cussing out... Sans, who held the other controller and a smug grin.

Just like that the tension dissipated, Alphys letting out a nervous giggle before cheering Undyne on, Frisk silently laughing with shaking shoulders before high-fiving Sans again (causing him to mutter an expletive when he lost ground), the attention focusing back on the 1vs1 game.

Frisk bounced over to you, grinning from ear to ear. They grabbed your hand and towed you towards the couch, pushing Sans' slipped clad feet from the cushion to make room for you. "hey!" he grunted in a half-hearted protest, too focused on the game. Frisk stuck their tongue out at him as a response and jumped onto the couch beside you, sandwiching you between the two of them.

Frisk starts rapidly signing to you as you look on in growing confusion. They seem excited, their hands a flurry of activity, but you couldn't understand a word. With no need for prompting, Toriel came to your rescue with a gentle laugh.

"Frisk is saying they are excited to see you again, and that they are happy you could come."

"I'm glad I could come, too," you smiled. "Did you have something to do with my invitation?"

Frisk giggles into their hand again. It seemed like, since they didn't speak, they performed exagerated actions to get their response across. It was adorable. They then lifted a hand, fingers straight and palm horizontal, seesawing it back and forth in a 'sort of' gesture.

"Mettaton has only mentioned inviting you once, my child. But Frisk has continued to pester him about it." Toriel elaborated. "They were determined to make sure you attended. They said you would no doubt be an excellent addition to our little group."

"Really? Thank you."

Frisk beamed. You would have added something, but Undyne's frustrated yell stopped you. "ARG! Damnit! I want a REMATCH!" A quick glance at the screen told you that Sans had landed the finishing blow on Undyne's character, ending the match in his victory.

"Language, Undyne." Toriel chastised.

Undyne had the decency to look ashamed for a second before an angry glint re-entered her eye, and she pointed an accusatory finger at Sans. "You CHEATED!"

He shrugged, looking mighty pleased and not at all bothered by the accusation. You supposed she was right—re-starting a match while the other player wasn't paying attention wasn't exactly fair. "sorry Undyne, no rematches. 'sides, weren't you the one who yelled 'all's fair in battle and war?' a few minutes ago?"

Undyne let out another "GAH!" of frustration before tossing you the controller none too gently. You caught it, surprisingly, and looked around in confusion. "Your turn PUNK!"

"I-It's okay, you'll get him n-next time!" Alphys soothed, patting Undyne on the arm.

"Um...? My turn...?" you asked.

"yup," Sans explains, smile stretching slightly. "when we play, whoever looses passes their remote to the next person."

Frisk pokes you in the side, signing something for Toriel to translate. "Which means your next, as you have not played yet."

"FUHUHUHU! To win you have to beat EVERYONE in the room! A battle royal to the DEATH!" Undyne roared, striking a power pose, that was frankly, quite powerful.

"W-without any a-actual death." Alphys quickly added.

"I thought it was karaoke night?" You blinked.

"I-it was, b-but Mettaton insisted we take a b-break until you arrived."

"But now that we've started THIS, we have to finish it!" Undyne says.

"But I don't know how to play?" you say weakly. It didn't look too complicated, but that didn't make you any less nervous.

"eh, figure it out as you go. don't worry, i'll go easy on you." Sans winks, offering you a hand to shake. "good luck."

You eye him warily, but ultimately decide to shrug and shake his hand with yours. ZAP! You yelp and snatch your hand back, rubbing the spot on your palm that received the electrical current as Sans burst out laughing, followed by Undyne.

"sorry, was that too shocking? i current resist," he gasps, holding up his hand to reveal the joke buzzer. You narrow your eyes at him, resisting the urge to laugh too. Oh, it was on now.

"A joke buzzer, really?" You sigh, focusing back on the TV, swiftly picking out a character and waiting for him to do the same. "I'll have you know I grew up with a brother who loved practical jokes. This isn't a war you want to start."

"ohm, i think i just did."

As soon as Sans picked his character, you selected the stage and started the battle, quickly mashing a few buttons to figure out what they did and what side of the screen you were on. You wouldn't say you were a noob when it came to video games, but you weren't a pro, either. You didn't know the game, so you didn't expect to win. But you had a plan. Sans played well, really well, so you timed your revenge accordingly. So, for now, you were just trying to keep your character alive while whittling down his characters health.

He started closing in, your characters health dwindling further and further. Do or die time. You'd been slowly working away at his health bar too, hitting hard and fast whenever you got the chance. At this point, one hit was all it'd take to knock out either character. "Well, if war is what you want," you start, pushing your character into position. "Then I have to warn you—I'm in my element when planning pranks."

It took him a second, but then he and Toriel burst out laughing at the unexpected pun. It gave you the opportunity you needed to sweep over and take the last of his characters health out, decisively winning the match. Frisk threw her hands up in cheer as you let out a whoop of victory, Undyne cackling at Sans expense.

"you cheated!" Sans sputtered, no real venom behind his words.

You just shrug. "What did Undyne say? All's fair in games and war?"

"BATTLES and war!" She corrected as Sans burst out laughing again. You high five Frisk, and wait as Sans passes his controller to them, wiping non-existent tears from his eyes.

"guess you really 1-up-ed me. AAA pun there, pal. next time i'll have to go for a combo."

His eyes never wavered from your face, waiting expectantly for the reaction that should follow. But this time you were ready, and kept you face painfully neutral, awarding him nothing but a small smile. Revenge part two. Because of Peter's antics as a child, you'd become adept at planning pranks, even in the broadest sense of the term. You weren't lying when you said he'd started a war.

"SANS I SWEAR!" Papyrus interjected, finally returning from his camera expedition, prize clutched in one hand. The other he had planted on his hip defiantly as he glared.

Sans held up his hands in surrender. "sorry bro, you're the boss. i wouldn't want you to rage quit."

"NYEH!"

"i'll just save these puns for another day."

Toriel and Frisk couldn't help themselves and started laughing hysterically (all be it silently in the latter's case) as Papyrus let out another infuriated nyeh. But he didn't pursue the matter further, instead throwing himself onto the couch beside Frisk, shoving them into you and you into Sans. The couch just wasn't meant for four people. Before you could utter an apology, Papyrus held out the prepped camera at arm's length, grinning. Instinctively you leaned towards Frisk, smiling brightly. Years of fame had taught you to react to a camera as such.

"SPAGETTII!" Papyrus said happily, grinning brightly as you laughed. You'd never heard that one before.

"Is it not 'cheese'?" Toriel asked, trying and failing to smother a smile.

"nah, that'd be too cheesy." Sans answered, making her laugh.

The flash went off, and Papyrus screeched. "NYOHOHO I TRUSTED YOU!"

"sorry sorry, i'll stop. should be a snap."

More Papyrus screeching, more laughter. Undyne stood to smack Papyrus on the shoulder sympathetically as she cackled. At least, you were pretty sure it was meant to be sympathetic—she was hitting him fairly hard.

Once things settled down again you and Frisk selected your characters and resumed videogame-based battle. If you thought things would settle down after that, you were sorely mistaken. Papyrus and Undyne almost immediately chose sides and began enthusiastically cheering you on. Their antics were amusing to say the least, broken up only by comments from the others and the occasional pun from Sans and Toriel. They shared the same sense of humor and were constantly setting each other up much to Papyrus' disdain. Which meant they shared your sense of humor, and you had to constantly stop yourself from snorting and laughing.

It was too soon to reveal your grand revenge plot. Sans had to earn your laughter.

Frisk won the round, then the following three against Alphys, Toriel, and Mettaton. They lost to Papyrus, who then won two rounds and lost to Undyne, who almost won the game until you beat her. While playing was a blast, watching was just as fun. Everyone chose a side at one point or another, encouraging their champion with gusto and trash talking the other side good naturedly. During the time you weren't playing, you couldn't help but be amazed at how quickly they'd accepted you into their group. No questioning your motives, no treating you differently. They just took you as you were and rolled with it.

Your only regret? Not taking Mettaton up on his offer sooner.

Eventually the controllers made their rounds, pinning you and Sans against each other again, the final hurdle before you could claim the metaphorical crown. Or real crown... you supposed, once Mettaton revealed the silly gold thing with a flourish. Of course he had a crown.

You'd chose your character with care, having spent your down time studying everyone else's play style, a tactic that had aided you well in the previous few battles. You knew Sans was one of the hardest people to beat—he hit hard and fast and had a knack for tracking down the other player on the map and predicting their next play.

"FUHUHUHU! Crush her hope and dreams, punk!" Undyne declares, already positioning herself firmly on Sans' cheer squad.

"GOOD LUCK (Y/N)!" Papyrus says, patting you on the shoulder. "I BELIEVE IN YOU! NO HARD FEELINGS, BROTHER."

"Brains against beauty," Mettaton purrs.

"Aw, are you calling me pretty Mettaton?" You smile, batting your eyelashes as Sans huffs.

"Course darling! Second only to me."

"Ah, of course. None can compare."

"HOW DOES HE GET HIS HAIR SO SHINY!" Papyrus nods.

"careful there pal, wouldn't want to get him started on an analogue bout his beauty routine." Sans interjects.

"BOO!" Papyrus yells.

"ARG! ENOUGH already! Start fighting!" Undyne shouts, reaching over and hitting the start button on your controller.

You can't help but laugh at the groups dynamic before launching yourself into the game, concentrating 100% on winning. You hadn't fought Sans since that opening battle, but you knew you wouldn't be able to use the same underhanded tactic. No... a different strategy was needed. As you predicted Sans went after your character hard and fast, tracking you down on the map with ease. You got a few shots, knocking down his health a smidge, but not enough to turn the tides. You resorted to weaving back and forth, as unpredictably as you could. Sans still got in a few hits as he chased you across the map, intent on not giving you the chance to counter attack.

Undyne was on her feet within the first five minutes, aggressively urging Sans to 'wipe the floor' with you. Papyrus, influenced by her yelling, also stood to cheer you on from 'a more enthusiastic angle'. Frisk eventually sided themselves with Sans, and Mettaton with you, adding into the overall commentary rather calmly compared to Undyne and Papyrus.

Somehow you managed to survive for another few minutes, and by an extreme stroke of luck got out of Sans sight. As you darted for cover, you snagged a grenade off the ground, a plan forming in your mind. After collecting a few more grenades, you pushed your character into position lobbing the grenades in Sans' characters general direction. You didn't hit him directly, the splash damage barely shaving anything off his health, but that was the point. You kept him moving, because if he stopped you certainly would hit him.

"your aim is terrible!" he laughed, dodging around the last grenade in your inventory. You don't answer, just smirk as you move your character into position. He aimed, and you moved, snagging one last grenade off the ground and lobbing it in his general direction. Sans let out a soft expletive, caught off guard, but managed to move quick enough to avoid the explosion.

"better luck next time!"

"I could say the same to you," you grinned, executing the final stretch of your plan. Instead of running away, as Sans expected, you drove your character towards his, not giving him time to readjust his aim. You ducked in close and managed to swing up your characters weapon to get a clear headshot. It was an extremely risky move, one that could have gone wrong a hundred and one ways, but you were lucky. Despite his health advantage, the headshot did the trick, his character crumpling like a rag doll as its health points hit zero.

"Haha!" You cheered, victorious. Undyne fell dramatically with a cry, Frisk consoling her, as Papyrus jumped to his feet with a cheer.

"I KNEW YOU WOULD BE VICTORIOUS, HUMAN!" He boasted before sweeping you up in a crushing hug. Thankfully for your ribs and spine it was a short one, and soon enough you were unceremoniously dumped back on the couch in his excitement. Which is how you ended half sprawled on Sans' lap.

"welp, you certainly got the drop on me," he said dramatically, glancing down with a... raised eyebrow?

"Foul! FOUL!" Undyne cried.

"if she was a fowl i'm sure she'd be easier to hit!" Sans said, flicking your forehead with a smirk.

Mettaton offers you a hand, tsking, "That's no way to speak of your new Queen." You rolled your eyes and accepted Mettaton's hand up, allowing him to place the silly crown on your head with a flourish and a curtsy.

"I would just like to thank my loyal subject for presenting me with the opportunity to succeed." You say in a snooty voice, posing like some hoity-toity princess.

"I'm throwing a coup!" Undyne yells, jumping to her feet. "Viva la Revolution!"

"UNDYNE NO! OUR RULER IS NOTHING BUT JUST AND WISE!" Papyrus interjects, standing in your defence.

Frisk darts to Undyne's side, signing something that makes Undyne laugh. "See? The pipsqueak agrees!"

"DO NOT WORRY, HUMAN! I SHALL DEFEND YOU!"

And that's how the pillow fight broke out. Undyne and Frisk both snag a pillow from the couch, Papyrus managing to get one for each hand. It was only fair, as it was 2vs1. Not daring to get involved you flop back down on the couch with a laugh, watching as the epic battle moved around the living room.

"Well, I think this is as good a time as any to serve some butterscotch-cinnamon pie, do you not?" Toriel sighs, standing and moving for the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, the pillow fight pauses long enough to allow her to pass unharmed before resuming with gusto.

"Can I help?" you ask.

"Oh, how generous. I would gladly accept the help."

You smile and start to follow, only to pause and lean towards Sans slightly, who's focused on the chaos before him. "I think I'll relish in this victory for quite a while," you say, drawing his attention to you as you tapped the side of your crown. "After all, it was golden."

And with that you stood and flounced off, leaving a shocked skeleton in your wake. As you entered the kitchen you were rewarded with a bark of laughter, and you couldn't stop the small smile that graced your lips if you tried.


	5. Not His Forte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say regular updates because it certainly wasn't me.

Your plan was flawless in theory, and so far, the execution equally so. Sure, you'd come up with this little 'prank' in less than 10 minutes (a new record), but you knew it was a good one. You weren't lying when you told Sans he'd started a war.

One thing you did  _not_  plan for though was this little interlude. You forgot to account for what helping someone with a somewhat menial task included: small talk.

Oh, you were fine at small talk. Fine when you were in full (y/n), singer/ songwriter mode, but currently you were fluctuating somewhere in between you and not you. The video game tournament had definitely loosened you up a bit, but you were still firmly trying to portray someone just a little better. And to be honestly, regular (y/n) was horrible at small talk. One of your go to questions was "how's the weather" and frankly that spoke for itself.

Toriel was already bustling around the kitchen when you arrived— pulling a pie from the fridge and setting it on the stove, removing the cover before simply settling her hands (paws?) on either side. The air felt fuzzy for a moment before her paws (yeah, you were going with paws— they were too soft looking to be anything but) began to admit a soft orange glow.

 _Magic!_  Your mind supplied as you gawked. You knew magic was very possible now, but you'd never actually seen it in action like this. Toriel glanced up after noticing your stillness and let out a soft laugh.

"Fire magic, my child. I firmly believe there is nothing quite like it when it comes to baking."

"That's... kind of amazing," you smiled. "It smells delicious."

"I am pleased you think so. Would you mind pulling down some plates, and finding some cutlery?"

"Sure!" You chirped, trotting further into the small kitchen and reaching for the first cupboard you reached. It took you a few tries, but eventually you selected the right door and drawer that led you to your goal, counting out enough plates and forks for everyone. You also managed to tack down a pie server and placed it on the counter next to Toriel with everything else. But once that task was done you were left with silence, and nothing to fill it with.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence per say, but it wasn't companionable either. You didn't want to just leave, since you'd followed to help, but now you didn't know what to do with your hands. Or where to stand.

 _So, how's the weather?_  your mind supplied helpfully, as you settled for leaning against the counter with your arms crossed loosely. A thought occurred to you as you searched for something to say. Mettaton was friends with the monster ambassador. The monster ambassador was Frisk. Frisk was the adopted child of the monsters' queen. Toriel was Frisk's adopted mother. Toriel was the queen. And you were standing there wearing a silly fake crown after being pronounced 'queen' of the impromptu game contest.

"Oh my gosh, I just realized how insensitive this must be," you gasped, pulling the crown off your head and gesturing to it when Toriel glanced your way. She laughed, freeing one hand from baking to wave dismissively.

"Not at all, my child! Mettaton brings that silly thing every time. There is not a person in the other room who has not been named 'queen' of something."

"Like?" you couldn't help but prod, smiling genuinely now. But, regardless of her reassurance you gently placed the crown on the counter beside you.

"Oh, what have we not been named as," she snickered, dispelling the fire magic in favour of a knife to cut the pie evenly with. "Queen of legs, queen of science, queen of flexing, queen queen, queen of being great. The list goes on."

You hummed thoughtfully, trying to assign the proper titles based on what you knew of those present. It wasn't that hard. "That certainly seems like something he'd start." You grabbed the stack of empty plates ready to be loaded with pie and took up a position beside her.

"Of course! Perfection must be celebrated after all, darlings!" Mettaton declared, flouncing in with Frisk hot on his heels.

"Fair," you nodded, pretending not to notice the look he gave you.

Frisk made a beeline for the cutlery and grabbed it all, then stopped beside you to reach for pie. The first plate went on their head, the second in their free hand, and they were out the door before you could say anything. Mettaton and Toriel didn't seem concerned about the precarious pie collection method, so you blinked and shrugged it off. Toriel and you each grabbed two pie slices, leaving Mettaton to snag the last. As you followed Toriel from the kitchen, following the sound of Papyrus thanking Frisk for the pie slice, Mettaton snagged your arm and held you back.

"Seriously, darling, drop the act," he whispered. "Trust me, they like the little snippets of (y/n) you've let slip through a lot more than who you are on stage."

"Was I that obvious?" you mumbled, smiling timidly. Oof, busted and called out. Again. You were relieved to see he just looked amused, not disappointed. You'd been trying, since he first mentioned this, but it was easier to just be (y/n), singer/songwriter. It was a low risk solution, but also one with low reward.

"Not at all. I just know you," he winked. "Just be yourself, darling, and they'll love you as much as I do."

You sighed, letting your persona bleed away with your exhale. "Oh, geez Mettaton, I didn't realize you liked me  _that_  much. Can't say I feel the same."

"There she is." He pressed a playful kiss to your cheek and you made a sound of disgust, watching as he skipped out of the room to rejoin the others. Anxious nerves crept back into your lungs, leaving you to let out a stuttering breath. Be yourself. 100% (y/n). Yeah, you could do that. Those in the other room were already wearing down your defences, and while the thought still unnerved you, you didn't feel as opposed to letting down the facade as you had been. And you trusted Mettaton.

You took a deep breath, and rounded the corner.

Everyone was seated already, enjoying their pies and joking around. In that split second, you saw a rare comradery in they way they were gathered. This group was as close nit as they came, and you felt envious. What you wouldn't give to be a part of something like this. Part of a group that seemed to live and breath at the same wavelength, despite the difference in personalities and volume.

But then you realized. Wasn't that exactly what Mettaton was offering? The opportunity to be part of this?

The realization filled you with determination, and gave you the confidence to cross that remaining distance. Toriel had reclaimed her spot on the chair, with Papyrus, Mettaton and Sans taking up the majority of the couch. Undyne and Alphys sat on the floor together, with Frisk wedged in between them. Undyne and Papyrus were engaged in some sort of heated debate that involved lots of yelling and wild gesturing, the others simply providing quips and imput.

Realizing Sans was the only one without pie, you trotted over and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He looked like he was dozing off, both eyes closed and fork held loosely in the hand propping up his chin. He cracked open an eye, but sat up straighter when he spotted your offering. "thanks.  _pie_  was wondering where my slice was."

You elected not to answer, but offered a lop-sided grin. You went to take a seat in front of the couch, but before you could get the chance Mettaton snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him. And that's how you ended up smooshed between a rock and a hard place. Literally. People made from metal and bone did not make for comfortable couch mates. The couch simply wasn't made for four adults—two of which were at least seven feet tall. Oh well, not much you could do now. You didn't exactly want to get up again and seem rude or ungrateful. So, you just shot Sans an apologetic smile since your arrival no doubt shoved him into the armrest, and scooched as close as you could to Mettaton. You briefly noted the dusting of light blue on his cheeks, but was quickly distracted by the fork Mettaton passed over.

Finally, it was time to try the delicious smelling pie that teased you from your plate. You cut off a bite, and had to stop yourself from groaning when it hit your taste buds. Holy crap if this wasn't the best pie you had ever tasted. You sagged into the couch, letting your eyes slip closed as the taste washed over you. The butterscotch and cinnamon blended together perfectly with the flakey, buttery crust. There was a tingly feeling on your tongue that you could only describe as magic as you chewed.

"good, huh?" Sans said, using his fork to pilfer a bit off of your plate.

"It's amazing! And stop! This is my slice. Eat your own." You said, swatting away his fork with your own.

"what pie?" He lifted his plate, which was pie free. How had he eaten that fast? While you were distracted, he managed to steal a bite, much to your chagrin.

"Just because you inhaled yours doesn't mean you get any of mine." You swatted away his encroaching fork again, the metal of your fork clinking against his.

" _mousse_  you be like that?"

"Weak. That pun had had nothing to do with pie."

"sorry, sorry, just  _filling_  in with something. my next pun will be much  _butter_."

"SANS NO!" Papyrus screeched.

You bit back a laugh, rolling your eyes. Sans reached for another bite, which you deftly deflected, tuning back into the conversation happening around you. You weren't positive, but it sounded like Papyrus and Undyne were arguing about some sort of training exercise? Something about spears vs bones as an obstacle. You took another bite of pie, knocking Sans' fork away again in the process.

As the conversation lulled and picked up, you found yourself joining in and allowing yourself to just... be. You didn't watch every word that left your mouth, adjusting your thoughts in order to get the desired reaction. No, you followed Mettaton's advice and let yourself just be (y/n). And it was amazing. You noticed the difference in how the rest of the group treated you almost immediately. Undyne's barbs grew less vicious, Alphys relaxed slightly, Papyrus remained gregarious but was ecstatic because of your participation, Frisk launched you question after question and seemed to know you were answering more honestly, and Sans seemed to redouble his effort to get you to laugh through horrid puns.

You felt accepted. Why did you ever try to pretend to be someone you weren't? Hind sight is 20/20, as they say.

It didn't take long for everyone to finish off their slices, and after Papyrus and Toriel collected the dishes it was on to deciding what to do next.

After a brief bout of arguing, it was decided that it was karaoke time once again. That's what they planned to do originally and started off with it, so it only made sense. Undyne made a passionate argument for another competition, and eventually she had almost everyone convinced.

"Why don't we make this more interesting, darlings!" Mettaton declared with a flourish while you helped set up. Papyrus and Frisk were fussing with the game and plugging everything in, Undyne singlehandedly pushing the furniture out of the way, Toriel gathering refreshments, Alphys messing with a laptop, and you dealing with the microphones. "I propose we sing on teams!"

"Teams?" you repeated as you pushed the second microphone into its stand.

"It would provide drama, romance! What more could we need?" He snagged your hand and pulled you into a twirl, ending it with a sharp dip that had you reacting on instinct. You wrapped one hand around his neck, the other draping over your forehead as you stuck your left leg straight out. 9/10 for drama.

"EXCELLENT IDEA, METTATON! NO DOUBT WHOEVER ENDS UP ON MY TEAM WILL GREATLY BENEFIT FROM MY GREAT VOCAL ACCOMPANIMENT!" Coming from any one but Papyrus, you would find the statement narcissistic, but somehow his declaration came off as endearing.

"What do you say, darling?" Mettaton practically purred as he righted you and twirled you again. "Shall we show these wannabes how it's done?"

"That sounds like a challenge Mettaton!" Undyne practically roared. "Alphys and I could take you any day!"

"I-I don't know a-about that Undyne." Alphys sputtered.

"Course we could, babe!" Undyne said as she hauled the yellow monster to her feet and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "No one can sing anime intros like you!" Alphys blushed brightly at the praise and hid her face behind her hands. It was official—they were the cutest couple you'd ever seen.

"sounds like you're asking for  _treble_ ," Sans quipped.

"YES! I THINK IT WILL BE MOST EXCITING WHEN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND MY BROTHER SANS SHOW EVERYONE WHO THE TRULY BEST SINGERS ARE!" Papyrus declared as he struck a pose.

"uh, heh... i think i'll sit this one out."

"BUT THEN I WILL NOT HAVE A PARTNER!"

"what about Frisk?"

Frisk shook their head and scampered over to where Toriel, who had just rounded the corner laden with snacks and drinks, was. "It looks like they wish to sing with me," she laughed lightly.

"PLEASE SANS?" Papyrus whined. Sans made a face, his usual smile faltering. You tilted your head, puzzling out that he either a) had a bad case of stage fright, or b) couldn't sing and didn't want to embarrass himself. But it wouldn't be embarrassing. He was among friends, and you felt that none of them would judge him for any off-key singing. But how to convince him?

One thing you noticed while playing earlier was Sans' competitive spirit. Even though he looked like he didn't have a care in the world, but he seemed to prefer to win. Unless he was up against Papyrus. When he started to lose, he sat up a little straighter, leaned forwards just a touch, and hit every button with purpose.

You grinned, twisting to loop your arm through Mettaton's. "Looks like Sans doesn't think he can take the power team." Sans narrowed his eyes slightly at you, seeming to catch on immediately to your little rouse.

"It seems he's too afraid to take on the challenge," Mettaton nodded.

"Or too lazy," Undyne snickered.

"And I hate to say it, but perhaps Papyrus has no chance of winning without a partner."

Papyrus' usual grin fell and his shoulders slouched. Sans' gave you a look that could only be described as venomous, but it faltered when Papyrus shot him what could one be described as puppy-dog eyes. It was adorable, and you vowed then and there that you'd never do anything to hurt his feelings again, however unintentional. Sans cracked under the look too. "fine, but only one song."

Papyrus let out a whoop of victory and you found yourself joining in.

Set up finished soon after that, and each team drew straws to decide the order. In the end you and Mettaton were first, Toriel and Frisk second, Undyne and Alphys third, and Papyrus and Sans last. You learned that Alphys had been setting up a program that could accurately judge a singer's abilities fairly and indifferently. Each team would sing two songs, and be given points both individually and as a pair. The points would go towards a total score, which would be used to determine the winner. Points were given for accuracy, tone, pronunciation, harmony, and passion (which, whenever discussed, had to be accompanied by a dramatic pose.)

Finally, everything was ready. You stood next to Mettaton, fiddling with the mic stand while someone on the couch behind you queued up the songs. It was also decided, in an attempt to make things more difficult for your duo, that you wouldn't be choosing your own songs. Mettaton still had the advantage, being a robot who could just quickly download the lyrics, but you actually had to struggle. At least, that was the idea.

"FUHUHUHU! Let's see if you know this one!" Undyne laughed. You glanced back to catch her victorious grin, before flicking your hair back and focusing on the screen. Course she would try to pick something you didn't know.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a familiar image. The first opening from Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood. That anime had been your  _life_  once upon a time. You hadn't watched anime in a while, but how could you forget such a classic? You had a split second to make a decision—pretend you didn't know the song and stumble along, or sing the lyrics you'd memorized a long time ago. Ah screw it. Mettaton wanted you to drop the act? This was the perfect opportunity. Time to reveal your inner nerd.

You closed your eyes and started the intro, the familiar words spilling out in perfect tune. You were a little surprised how accurately you were able to pronounce the foreign language, but then again, a younger you literally spent hours fumbling over the words as you desperately tried to learn. It was the full version too, not the one shortened for the sake of the show. You fell into a well rehearsed rhythm with Mettaton, switching vocals without any physical indication that the other was going to take over. It was a silent language only you knew, created from the year of working together so closely. You harmonized for the chorus, and flipped for the second verse with Mettaton starting and you taking over halfway. The second chorus was together again, and you took the bridge. You finished the song together, and a wave of nostalgia passed over you. You really needed to watch FMA again.

The others cheered and clapped as the second song loaded, Alphys squealing something about having seen that anime? And had you seen that anime? What other anime's had you seen? You almost got caught in what would no doubt be an unending conversation, but Mettaton shushed her just before the second song started. Hell yeah, something Disney. You found yourself matching Mary Poppins as you sang along to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Mettaton took Bert's lyrics, and you found yourself having a ridiculous amount of fun. You both danced along where you could, the laugh you let loose after the last supercalifragilisticexpialidocious was finished was real.

When you and Mettaton took a bow there was more clapping, some bravo-ing, and much oo-ing and aw-ing. Apparently, it was something else to hear to famous singer perform off the stage. Eventually You were squished back on the couch between Mettaton and Sans, the latter of whom was watching you curiously.

"What?" you asked.

"nothing really. i'm just surprised—i didn't peg you for an otaku."

"I wouldn't go that far. I was more of a casual fan. FMA was one of my favourites."

"huh."

"What, hoping to find another otaku to chat with?" you teased.

He cracked a lopsided grin. "nah, i'm more of a casual fan too. nothings really  _blown_  me away yet." You fight back a smile, keeping your face deceptively deadpan. "what? that pun not your  _speed_?"

You turn away, leaving a confused Sans behind as the music kicks up for Undyne and Alphys' first song. Undyne's pick was Just Like Fire, by P!nk and you had to say she nailed the rough rock quality P!nk portrayed. Alphys did her best to harmonize, and though shaky she did pretty well. She really shined when their second song played—the intro to an anime you'd never heard of. Mettaton informed you it was called Mew Mew Kissy Cutie and was Alphys' favourite anime. Alphys seemed to forget her stage fright and nervousness, and even started to dance a little with Undyne during the chorus.

You clapped and cheered along with the others, asking Alphys about Mew Mew Kissy Cutie when she sat down and listening as she went on a rapid rant about the show. You lost some of her spoiler filled summery as she talked a million miles per second, but found yourself promising to swap phone numbers and anime suggestions in the future.

Toriel and Frisk were up next, and the program was adjusted slightly to account for Frisk's silence. It was marking Toriel on her singing still, but Alphys hooked up a little camera that would track and score Frisk on their dancing. It was brilliant. Their first song was a sweet ballad you recognized but didn't know the name of, and Toriel sung it well. Her voice was soft and comforting, and Frisk was able to pull off a pretty amazing interpretative dance routine. The second song was Frisk's choice, and you were a little embarrassed to hear one of your singles start blaring through the speakers. Toriel once again impressed you with her vocals, and Frisk flew through the dance routine perfectly.

"Looks like I've got competition," you grinned after the applause and cheer died down. Frisk beamed and signed something, waving at Mettaton to translate.

"They say 'if you ever need an understudy, just call.'"

"I'll keep that in mind," you laughed as Frisk blew you a flirty kiss before climbing onto Mettaton's lap and trading phone numbers with you.

"GASP! SANS! THE TIME HAS FINALLY COME FOR US TO SHOW OFF OUR SINGING PROWESS!" Papyrus said, already scrolling through the song options with a bright smile.

"uggg," Sans groaned, flopping over on the armrest and closing his eyes. Frisk jumped up in a huff, grabbing an ankle and tugging. Sans slid off the couch and onto the floor at their insistence, protesting by doing nothing.

"Lame," you said, rolling your eyes.

Papyrus stood, planting his hands on his hip bones and stomping a foot. "STOP BEING SUCH A LAZY-BONES! YOU PROMISED!"

"i didn't promise anything," Sans mumbled.

"Don't be such a spoil sport," you booed. Undyne booed at him loudly. Frisk tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and he cracked open an eye. They started signing something, and Sans' expression soured.

"you wouldn't dare."

Frisk signed something that had Mettaton snickering.

He let out a groan of defeat. "fine! i'll sing."

"What did you say?" you whispered to Frisk, watching as Papyrus let out an enthusiastic 'nyeh heh heh!' and hauled Sans off the floor, positioning him in front of a microphone and dragging him into a one-sided debate about which songs to sing. Frisk just smirked and shrugged, smug as hell. You glanced at Mettaton, who just shrugged and smiled, leaving you to stew in confusion. You really needed to learn sign language.

The music starts up, bringing your attention back to the present, and Papyrus jumps in immediately. He sings cheerily into the microphone, the pop beat matching his excitement well. He wasn't a half bad singer, if a bit nasally and loud. When the chorus hit, he nudged his brother, prompting the shorter skeleton to join in.

 _Wow_ , was all you could think. He was amazing! His voice was low and smooth, and he had enough range and enough awareness to adjust his pitch to match Papyrus whenever the taller skeleton went off key. It took real skill to blend voices like that. The chorus ended and Papyrus let Sans take the lead, allowing you to hear him without interference. Wow. You might have swooned if you wouldn't have been deathly embarrassed. The song ended, and everyone cheered. Papyrus basked in the praise, but Sans still seemed a little unsure. When you caught his eye, you grinned and gave him a thumbs up. His smile relaxed ever so slightly and you thought you saw that light blue dusting across his cheekbones again.

The second song kicked up, and you actually recognized it from your Vocaloid days. Drop Pop Candy, you thought it was called. They were singing the English version, but you didn't fault them for that. Sans actually seemed... comfortable, with the choice, taking the lead while Papyrus provided a convincing back up. When the song ended, you joined everyone in enthusiastic applause.

"That was amazing!" you said. "Bravo!"

"BUT OF COURSE!" Papyrus struck a pose, scarf fluttering in the breeze. "YOU SHOULD EXPECT NOTHING LESS FROM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

"have to say, it's not my  _forte_." Sans deflected, rubbing the back of his skull. You didn't miss the pun, but it seemed everyone else had.

You cracked a smile. " _Hymn,_ I don't know, you could have convinced me otherwise." Ah, you couldn't miss the blink-and-you-miss-it pun. Sans actually blinked at you, and you could see the gears turning as he tried to figure out if you actually used a pun as he had. Mettaton seemed to be the only other one who had caught on, and sent you an exasperated glare.

"O-oh! It looks like the c-computer has finished scoring the t-teams," Alphys interrupted.

"Tell us already!" Undyne said.

"The suspense is killing me!" Mettaton declared, swooning dramatically and flopping over on you and Frisk.

"Gah! You're heavy!" you protested, pushing at his metal shoulder to no avail.

"W-with 94 p-points out of a p-possible 100—(y/n) and Mettaton," Alphys finally managed. Mettaton squeals and hugs you, sitting up in the process and ending up practically on your lap. You shift slightly so he's sitting between you and the armrest rather than on your lap, sparing your thighs from the crushing pain he had been inflicting before swiping an only half-faked tear from your eye.

"I'd like to thank my family and friends. Without their support I never would have made it this far," you sniffed.

"Well I for one simply  _knew_  we'd come out on top, darling!" Mettaton cooed, blowing kisses to the 'audience'.

"We GET it! You guys are professionals!" Undyne sneered.

"Careful, darling, or your scales will turn green."

And that's how Mettaton ended up tackled to the floor by an Amazonian fish lady. He'd be fine... probably.

"T-toriel and Frisk t-take second place with 82 out of 100, m-me and Undyne barely claim third with 79 out of 100, and Papyrus and Sans' take last with 78 out of 100." Alphys said decisively with a click of the keyboard. "I-I can also check individual s-scores?"

"Hmph, might as well solidify my superiority." Mettaton said, still pinned to the floor yet managing an elegant hair flick.

"W-well, ac-actually, (y/n) is first with 97 points."

"What!?"

"Rude," you huff.

"Certainly I am second, at least."

"N-nope. Sans is actually, with 93." Alphys managed.

"Seriously?!"

"FUHUHU! Nice!" Undyne cackled.

"Mettaton t-takes third with 91, Toriel in f-fourth with 86, m-me fifth with 79, Frisk in sixth with 75, P-Papryus in seventh with 73, and U-Undyne in eight with 70."

"FEAR NOT METTATON, IT IS CLEAR THIS PROGRAM IS FLAWED!" Papyrus said, radiating confidence. "OTHERWISE I WOULD HAVE PLACED HIGHER ON THE LIST, AS I AM VERY GREAT!"

"Ah, Papy darling, I can always count on you to comfort me," Mettaton purred, managing to free himself from Undyne's grapple to drape over the taller skeleton, who's face promptly flushes orange. Wait... is that the skeleton's way of blushing? You filed that little tidbit of information away for later.

"NYEH HEH HEH!"

"T-there's one more thing the p-program determines, i-if anyone's interested." Alphys said.

"HELL YEAH! Blow them all away with your nerd program, Alphy!" Undyne yelled supportively, draping an arm around her girlfriends' shoulder.

"What does it do?" you asked.

"I-it analyzes each singers performance and p-pairs them to o-optimize q-quality." Alphys said. "S-so Toriel was paired with Mettaton, Frisk with Papyrus, Undyne and me again- "

"As if there was any doubt fuhuhu!" Undyne laughed.

"A-and (y/n) with Sans."

"seriously?" Sans sighed. "if we  _mezzo._ "

You huffed at him and flipped your hair over your shoulder, taking on your best diva tone. "You should feel honored to be paired with me."

"GASP!" Papyrus literally said. "WE SHOULD SING IN OUR NEW PAIRINGS!" Frisk clapped and nodded rapidly in agreement, throwing themselves at Papyrus to be swept up in his arms. It was adorable, when they settled, sitting on one of Papyrus' bent arms with their arms around his neck, his other braced on his hip. The suggestion was met with a majority vote of 'ooo, yeah!", except Sans who groaned dramatically and flopped back on the couch, mumbling something about 'only one song.' You didn't care, you were excited. You'd carry your team if you had to and you were confident you could convince Sans to join in again.

And then Frisk yawned.

Toriel perked up and pounced, almost visibly switching into caring mother mode. "It is getting quite late. Perhaps next time? Frisk and I must be getting home." Frisk groaned silently, rolling their head back for full effect. But they didn't protest when Toriel plucked them from Papyrus' arm and pushed them towards the door. Frisk dragged their feet, but rubbed their eyes and yawned again as they pulled on their boots.

"I should head home too," you said, glancing at your phone for the first time since you arrived. Oops, two missed calls from Peter. You'd deal with those later... and oops again, creeping up on midnight. You wondered briefly if there were the bus was running and... nope, a quick check revealed they were not. "Crumbs... I missed the last bus. Can I hitch a ride with you, Mettaton?"

"If you must," he sighed like it was a huge inconvenience, but the smile ruined the drama. You rolled your eyes, moving to pull on your jacket and boots.

You bid your goodbyes to Toriel and Frisk, frowning slightly as Sans followed them out the door. You didn't have much time to question it, as you were being swept up by Papyrus for a crushing hug. The rest of your goodbyes happened in a chaotic manner you were beginning to associate with the ragtag group of monsters—Papyrus' crushing hug and enthusiastic promises to meet again soon, narrowly avoiding Undyne's noogie attacks the second of which you did not avoid, and Alphys' rather tame goodbye... until you traded phone numbers with her and mentioned trading anime suggestions.

"Thank you so much for having me," you said finally. "I really enjoyed myself."

"WE ENJOYED HAVING YOU!" Papyrus said, pulling you into another spine cracking hug. "I KNOW I SPEAK FOR EVERYONE WHEN I SAY YOU ARE WELCOME ANYTIME!"

"Aw, thanks Papyrus."

"À tout à l'heaure, darlings!" Mettaton said, waggling his fingers at the remainder of monsters before snagging your arm and pulling you through the door. You managed one last wave as the cold hit, then they were out of sight and you were left waiting for Mettaton's ride.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently "à tout à l'heaure" means "see you later" in French. I don't speak French, so if any of you lovely readers do and this is totally wrong and Google lied please correct me~
> 
> Also look who figured out how to format italics?


	6. Get On My Level

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A skeleton walks you home.

"So, why exactly are we waiting outside?" You shiver, burying your chin further into your scarf in an attempt to escape the cold. You'd only been outside for a minute, but it felt like an eternity too long. Much to your irritation Mettaton looked completely unbothered by the cold.

 

"Because I thought he'd be back by now."

 

"Who?"

 

"me, bird." You screeched and spun, catching Sans' general outline behind you before loosing your balance and toppling into the snow. He let out a genuine laugh as your shocked expression and dramatic reaction, and continued to laugh as the shock devolved into irritation.

 

"Sans!" you complain. "Seriously?"

 

"sorry, there was snow-way i could pass up the opportunity," he snickered, finally calming down enough to offer you a hand up. "but honestly, i didn't expect you to fall for me already."

 

You wrinkled your nose at his offered hand, but quickly decided to take it. The faster you could get out of the snow bank the better. Plus... it was the perfect chance to enact swift revenge. As soon as you regained some semblance of balance you pushed forwards, shoving the fist full of snow you'd swiped on the way up past his head and into his hood, surprising him enough to give you the advantage. You pulled the snow filled hood over his head, and completed your revenge by grabbing the drawstrings and pulling them tight.

 

"Not so fun when you're the one covered in snow, is it?" you taunted.

 

"ack, hey, stop!" Sans said, trying to wrestle your hands away as you tied the strings together.

 

You finish the triple knot and take a step back, relishing in your victory with a short "Muahaha!" as Sans pried at the strings. It didn't take him long to undo the mess, and while he was glaring when he emerged his smirk ruined any negativity as did his snicker.

 

"you know i don't get cold, right?"

 

"Lame."

 

"that's snow way to make friends."

 

"Who says I want to be you friend?" you couldn't help but tease.

 

"touché. but i'm offended! i'm a great friend—totally chill."

 

"Oh stars, I get it, your both hilarious and adorable." Mettaton groaned, pushing his way between you, breaking whatever connection you'd been forming and reminding you that that little exchange had an audience. Great, now your cheeks were warm with an early onset blush. "Now can you stop flirting long enough for me to get home? Beauty this fabulous doesn't just happen, darlings. I need to keep my nightly regiment." And it got worse, now it felt like your cheeks were on fire. You couldn't even think of anything to recover with.

 

Sans coughed, burying his head in the fluff of his upturned hood. Aw, he was like little a blue turtle. The blush really completed the look. Wait what? No, not aw. Definitely not aw. What were you thinking about? Definitely not how cute Sans was.

 

Ahem.

 

"Wait, you lied to me?" you said, lifting an offended hand to your chest and blinking wide eyes. "You told me you woke up this way!"

 

"I did. After an extensive nightly beauty regiment."

 

"sounds like you where twisting the truth there, buddy, might want to work on your application technique." Sans said.

 

"Weak. I thought you were good at puns?" you said.

 

"hey you're smiling, aren't you?" Dang it, he saw through your horribly disguised smile.

 

"Anyway," Mettaton stressed. "Let's go!" And with a glamourous hair flip he linked arms with you and strode off. You're forced into a trot keep up with the metal monster, taking two quick steps to every one of his. You cursed his long legged stride, not for the first time, internally bemoaning the fact that you had not been blessed with such a feature.

 

Sans caught up and kept pace on Mettaton's other side, hands buried in his pockets and an easy grin on his face. "usual condo?"

 

"Where else?"

 

"I know for a fact you own at least three properties in this general area. It's a very valid question." You said as a thought occurred to you. "Wait, how are we getting there?" You didn't see a car, and you weren't exactly inclined to walk.

 

Sans winked. "i know a short cut."

 

"And that's supposed to help us how?"

 

"Don't think about it too hard, darling." Mettaton said, tightening his grip slightly on your arm. You glanced up questioningly, and opened your mouth to say something when an odd sensation over took you. Like when you stand up too quick and get all dizzy. Your vision blurred briefly and you felt a rush of tingles down your arms, but after blinking a few times the sensation was gone.

 

And you gaped.

 

You were in the entrance of Mettaton's casual condo. The one in the neighbourhood. You tugged at you scarf in confusion, suddenly dressed too warm for the environment. "What in the... how?"

 

"Again, darling, don't think about it too hard," Mettaton said, patting your head in a soothing manner before striding off down the hallway, turning on lights as he went.

 

Realization dawned on you, your thoughts finally catching up with the action. You spun on Sans. "You can teleport."

 

He shrugged, looking nonchalant. "i just know a short cut."

 

"That's one hell of a short cut."

 

"eh, it's neither here nor there."

 

You let out a 'pft' and struggled to contain a smile as you glanced around again. It was hard—you were still reeling from the information provided. You knew monster magic could do some pretty crazy stuff, but your first-hand interaction with it had been limited. Seriously though—teleportation? Or a short cut as he called it? How cool was that.

 

"So, are you coming in or are you just going to linger in the doorway?" Mettaton asked, re-entering the hall.

 

"Oh, haven't you heard?" you said, turning to face him. "It's this new thing called loitering."

 

Mettaton huffed a short laugh bordering on a snort. "Do I need to get a sign?"

 

"Nah, it's not really catching on."

 

"you sure? might stick around for a while." Sans quipped.

 

"You, leave." Mettaton pointed a painted nail towards the door, giving Sans the stink eye.

 

"fine, fine, i'll move along."

 

You moved out of the way so Sans could slip out of the door, but held it open behind him. "I'd better get going too. Thanks again for inviting me—I had a blast."

 

Mettaton enveloped you in a tight hug. "You're welcome, darling. And consider it an open invite. You're officially invited to any future soiree."

 

"Really? I might seriously take you up on that. You'll never be rid of me."

 

"s' the other way around kid," Sans said from somewhere past the door. "you're already on the christmas card."

 

"Ah, excellent. I'll get out the horrible sweaters." Darn, it almost hurt to hold back that perfect pun you'd been thinking of. But the timing was wrong, and the plan could not be jeopardized. You still earned a quiet snicker from the hall, so that at least was a win. "Anyway, I best get walking. See you later?"

 

"Au revoir, darling!" Mettaton cooed, following you to the door and blowing you kiss after kiss as you departed. You copied the action, only dropping the action when the door clicked shut.

 

When you turned towards the elevator, you were a little surprised to see Sans already waiting inside, holding the door open. "so, where too?" he asked as you approached.

 

"You don't have to come, you know. You've already done plenty. Thank you, by the way. I don't think I said that."

 

He shrugged. "no worries."

 

"No, really, I don't want to take up anymore of your night. It's a bit of a walk. Like, at least twenty minutes." A thought occurred. "Wait, why don't we just take a shortcut? If you don't mind that is. It'll be so much faster!”

 

"doesn't work like that, kid. i need to have been to the place i'm trying to get too." He paused. "sides', a little walking won't kill me, so you're not scaring me off that easily—i'm coming."

 

You opened your mouth to quip back, but something in his expression and tone made the words die on your tongue. You couldn't figure out what it was, but it had you shying away and ducking your head. His expression and posture were loose, but his eyes were hard; the little pin pricks of light small and focused, daring you to refused, to try.

 

"I wasn't trying to get rid of you," you finally mumbled. Silence descended, now uncomfortable. Sans didn't follow up that last sentence either, and continued to casually lean against the wall as the floors blinked past. You watched the floors count down, dropping you closer and closer to the lobby. You wished for a swift release from this tense atmosphere. Heck, you'd take the floor opening up and dropping you into the abyss at this point. You chewed your lip, when suddenly an idea lit up your mind. Time to enact the final phase of your plan.

 

"You know," you started, glancing at Sans before watching the numbers again. You had to time this perfectly. "I'm not a huge fan of elevators." You glanced over, and watched as a browbone lifted in question. 3...2...1... The elevator dinged and you started out, spinning just as you crossed the threshold to grin. "Last time I was in one, it really let me down."

 

Sans' expression morphed from mild curiosity to confusion to surprise before he burst out laughing, bracing a hand against the elevator wall. You laughed in victory, turning away when the doors began to close. There was a bang, the soft glide of the doors reopening, and the rapid pace Sans set to catch up.

 

"seriously, that really pushed my buttons. a real rib tickler." he said between recovering snickers, falling into step beside you. You choked down laughter before it could escape, opting to smile and keep your gaze forwards. His step faltered briefly, a simple stumble, before he tried again. "really had to think outside the box for that one."

 

Was this really worth it? You glanced at his befuddled expression, and decided true victory was just within reach. So yes, it was. You paused by a tree in your path, reaching up to tug at one of the new leaves, freeing it from the tree.

 

"okay, now i'm just confused." You mimicked him, simply lifting an eyebrow to his question. "do you like puns, or do you not?"

 

You spun fully, a tilted smirk playing at your lips. You closed the distance between you, getting as close as you dared, grabbing one of his hands and pressing the remnant of the tree into his palm. "To tell you the truth... I leaf for them." You dropped his hand, and watched as confusion replaced that light blush that dotted his cheekbones. He glanced down at his now open palm, taking in the leaf that rested there. And then he was laughing. A real, belly laugh. The kind that devolved into helpless giggles.

 

Checkmate.

 

"stars," he gasped. "seriously? you... leaf for them?" He was starting to recover, but that just wouldn't do at all.

 

"Seriously. Seems like you," you hopped up onto the ledge separating the grass from the sidewalk, "need to get on my level." Mission accomplished. You grinned and snickered as you started walking along the ledge, holding out your arms for balance.

 

When he managed to catch his breath after that bout of laughter, his grin was wider then yours. "how do you come up with this stuff?"

 

You mimicked another one of his mannerisms, shrugging. "Excellent improv. But if you must know..." You leapt off the ledge with as much finesse as you could muster, diving into a roll that ended with you on one knee, arms thrown wide for added flair. "I'm excellent at rolling with it."

 

He lost his shit. Seriously. He laughed loudly and freely, ending up braced against a tree with one arm wrapped around his stomach. You were a little worried you broke the skeleton, but couldn't help but laugh along. His laugh was infectious. You must have made quite the pair. Eventually he wrested control of his breathing and wiped a tear from his eye, pushing off from the tree and gazing down at you with fuzzy eyes. “that was amazing."

 

You smile at him, pushing yourself up from where you had collapsed on the grass. He offered a hand and you took it, this time actually registering the feel of his bones in your palm. Once you were steady on your feet, he let go and you shunted the analysis to the back of your mind.

 

"seriously. extra points for dedication."

 

"I try." You manage, voice a little hoarse from laughter. You clear your throat, trying to recover. "Only half of that was a performance."

 

"definitely worth the price of admission. and the other half?"

 

"Improv," you winked. That earned you another snicker. You made eye contact and instantly lost your train of thought. His pupils were stars. Honest to god, five pointed stars. Completely distracted by the new discovery, you didn’t even register what you were doing when you grabbed his jaw between you hands and towed him closer, trying to get a better look.

 

“h-hey! w-what are you-“

 

“Stars—your pupils are stars!” And they were. About the size of a quarter, the stars had rounded points and almost a cartoonish 3D quality to them.

 

“no-no they aren’t!” Sans protested, trying to pull free from your grip. You watched in both fascination and disappointment as his pupils shrank and went back to pencil-eraser sized dots.

 

“Well, not anymore,” you pouted. It took a second for you to realize what kind of position you’d put yourself in, and backed off with a slight cough as an excuse to use your hand to cover the heat flushing your cheeks. “Seriously though—how did you do that?”

 

“do what? i didn’t do anything,” he mumbled, burring his chin in the fluff of his hood, abashed. You decided to drop it for now, despite the curiosity burning in your mind. You didn’t want to pester him about it when he was clearly embarrassed.

 

"so,” he said, clearing his throat after a moment. “i've got to ask, what was all that then?"

 

"All what?" You jumped on the topic change, allowing him the escape. You filed away the curiosity for another time. Maybe Papyrus would be more forth coming with an answer. They were both skeleton monsters, you reasoned, so he’d probably know why.

 

"the pretending. you acted like you couldn't care less about pun and then hit me with gold."

 

Ah, time for the big reveal. The villains monologue. "Muahaha, so you noticed! It was all part of my brilliant master plan."

 

"master plan? you've lost me."

 

"I told you this wasn't a war you wanted to start. I excel at practical jokes."

 

"wait, all that was for a joke? let me reiterate my previous statement about dedication."

 

"I'll accept your written declaration of defeat next week. That or you can just wave a white flag."

 

"don't write me off so soon, bird. i may not have your dedication but i'm quick on my feet." To punctuate his point, he teleported away from you, landing across the street you'd been intending to cross in the blink of an eye.

 

"Walking a thin line there buddy," you said, walking along the line dividing the crosswalk from the road when the light indicated it was safe to do so. Traffic safety was no joke people.

 

"you don't know what you're talking about. no-body's better than me."

 

You grin and offer your hand, intending to shake on the terms rendered. A prank war to the death. Or, until someone admitted defeat at least. Sans' grin widened, pupils focusing just a bit. He stuck out his hand, and you shook on it. Well, tried. As soon as your palm made contact you yelped and pulled away, having fallen victim to his hand buzzer once more.

 

"Mother— again? Seriously?" You said, smacking his shoulder playfully.

 

"hey, you're the one who fell for it. buzz off."

 

"You're the worst."

 

"that hertz."

 

You pressed your lips together, trying to fend of the laugh. It was a loosing battle, honestly. Why bother? You let yourself laugh.

 

The conversation that followed was light and simple, mostly consisting of you trading terrible puns back and forth. Despite your hesitation earlier in the night, you found yourself genuinely enjoying Sans' company. It was easy and superficial, at the moment, but that was okay. You appreciated the moment for what it was.

 

And you were filled with determination.

 

All too soon you were leading the way up the path to your house. Your real house, not the apartment you shared with Peter. It was your childhood home, the one you grew up in. A nondescript two-story building in natural brown, whose most discernible features were the huge, pale pink blooming rhododendron in the front and the koi pond out back. It had been the first true investment you'd made with your hard-earned money.

 

When your parent passed, they divided the two properties they owned between their two children. You'd ended up with the cabin a few hours away, and Peter the house. He decided to sell it almost immediately, but you'd resisted. There were too many memories you'd wanted to keep, too many dings in the walls and doors that all told a story. It was your house. Your parents. You hadn't understood why Peter had been so determined to sell it. So, you bought it. Without Peter knowing.

 

Peter still didn't know you owned the house. And that was okay.

 

Whenever Peter went away, you made a point to stay in the house. It was different, of course, from when you'd lived in it together; different furniture, allocation, floors, plus a dozen other small repairs that had needed to happen. The koi pond had both lost and gained fish, and it was shaded by the apple tree you'd planted. But that was okay, too. It still held the memories.

 

When you weren't staying, you paid the elderly couple next door to tend to the property. They were the sweetest people, Mr. and Mrs. Brunum, and you adored them. Because of them, the lawns were mowed, the rhododendron was trimmed, and the porch light came on when you walked up.

 

"nice place," Sans commented off-handily as you walked up.

 

"Thanks, it was my parents." You pulled out your key, unlocking the door but refraining from pushing it completely open. While the exterior looked lived in, the interior did not. "Well, thanks again for the lift, and the company."

 

"no problem. now i know where you live."

 

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You're not going to become an obsessed stalker, are you?"

 

"too late," he winked and you laughed. A beat of awkward silence. "so... i'll see you next time?"

 

"Next time," you confirmed with a nod, automatically assuming he meant at the next gathering. With a final nod and a small wave, he ambled off. When you blinked, he was gone.

 

With a shake of your head and a small smile you pushed your way inside, flicking on the light and taking in the open foyer. A wood banister was all that separated the entrance from the living room, the concept very open and inviting. Fabric covers protected the furniture from dust and age, and while the floors were clean from Mrs. Brunum's tireless work the house would still need a good clean and airing out. But that was tomorrows task. Right now it was time for bed, and anything else could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	7. In Which Nothing Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rude awakening and nothing happens.

The following week ticked by in much the same way as ay other week; a usual routine of unpredictable sessions and meetings as you upheld the standard set for you as a performer. The buildup was endless, the payoff set in the distant future.

The only real difference was where you spent the night.

Thursday morning you awoke to instant ringing. With hazy half-consciousness you patted down your bedside table, knocking your phone to the floor as it gave another ring, and you had half the mind to leave it there. But curious guilt had you flopping over the edge of your bed in search of the device, turning it on with a wince at the light. You regretted that decision immediately, your eyes catching on the time. Who the heck called someone at 7:30am? And the caller was unknown, so you didn’t know who deserved your ire.

There was only one thing to do.

Ignore.

You dropped your phone unceremoniously on the bed next to you after silencing it and snuggled in, intent on getting a few more minutes—or hours—of sleep. You didn’t have work until that afternoon, so why bother getting up now?

_Brzz brzz_.

Nope, you weren’t even going to dignify that text with a glance.

_Brzz brzz._

Nope.

_Brzz brzz_.

Fine.

You groped for your phone, glaring at the offending piece of technology as if doing so could cause it to spontaneously combust. _Oh, sorry I couldn’t respond to your texts! My phone mysteriously caught fire. No, no, I’m sure it was an isolated incident, no need to worry_. Then you caught sight of the irritating text senders name, and your desire to light technology on fire only increased. _Mettaton you butt_. 

_Mettaton: Rise and shine darling!_

_Mettaton: Could you be a dear and answer your phone?_

_Mettaton: Really now, the silent treatment?_

As you read the missed texts, another came in.

_Mettaton: I know you’re up darling, probably reading these texts as we speak!_

_Evie: Sorry, Evie can’t get to the phone right now, can I take a message?_

_Mettaton: Excellent! You really are awake. Took you long enough._

_Evie: you_

_Evie: are_

_Evie: a_

_Evie: butt_

_Mettaton: No need to be rude. Besides, the only reason you should bring up my booty in a conversation is to complement it._

_Evie: You better have a good reason for waking me up, good sir, or I’m going to come over there and kick that booty until it resembles a trash can._

_Mettaton: Someone’s in a bad mood._

_Evie: Gee, I wonder why?_

_Mettaton: And sassy. But yes, I do. Please answer your phone the next time it rings._

_Evie: I’m getting my ass kicking boots._

_Mettaton: Darling, you won’t get within ten feet of this fabulous ass and you know it._

_Mettaton: Any who, answer your phone._

As if on cue, the device started to vibrate and chime insistently in your hand, the same unknown number as before. You had half the mind to ignore it, but found yourself pulling it to your ear and answering instead.

“Hello?”

“GREETINGS HUMAN! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! FRISK, STOP PULLING ON MY SCARF!” There was a pause, “I HAVE BEEN TOLD TO INFORM YOU THAT IT IS ALSO FRISK, IN SPIRIT!”

“Oh, uh, hi Papyrus!” you squeaked, surprise shocking you awake. You weren’t expecting the loud skeleton on the other end of the phone, and the realization had you sitting up far too fast for your cotton-ball stuffed brain to handle. “And Frisk,” you added, clearing your throat in a vain attempt to chase away the sleep roughened quality. “How are you?”

“I AM EXCELLENT, THANK YOU FOR ASKING! I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD APOLOGIZE FOR WAKING YOU… ALTHOUGHT, IT IS MORNING, WHICH MEANS YOU SHOULD PROBABLY BE UP ANYWAY! HOW ELSE ARE YOU TO HAVE A PRODUCTIVE DAY?”

“You’re… not wrong.” You winced. Man, never before had you felt bad about your sleeping habits, but now a modicum of guilt was working its way into your chest. To alleviate the feeling, you threw your covers off your legs and stood, stretching quietly before wandering over to your window. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, birds chirping, but still far too early.

“THEN I SHALL ACCEPT YOUR GRATITUDE! WHO KNOWS HOW MUCH TIME YOU COULD HAVE WASTED WITHOUT MY HELP!”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Ah Papyrus, what a sweetheart. If it was anyone else, the dialogue chain would have come across as rude, but he’d said it all so earnestly it wasn’t anything but endearing. “Thanks Papyrus.”

“NYEH HEH HEH! YOU ARE QUITE WELCOME. NOW, YOU MUST BE WONDERING WHY WE CALLED THIS FINE MORNING!”

“Actually, yeah. What’s up?”

“I SHALL TELL YOU WHAT IS UP! I HAVE BEEN ENTRUSTED WITH A TASK OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE—INVITING YOU TO THIS WEEKEND’S SOCIAL GATHERING! SO, CONSIDER YOURSELF OFFICIALLY INVITED!”

You blinked. You’d just assumed Mettaton would pass the information down to you, not to receive an official invite from another member of the monster family. They were a family, right? At least in the ways that counted. Eh, probably. Anyway, it was a pleasant surprise to say the least, and you felt your lips stretch into a genuine smile. “Really? Thank you! I shall consider myself officially invited.” Papyrus let out a happy little nyeh, but you continued. “What are we doing?”

“IT IS LADY TORIEL’S TURN TO DECIDE, SO WE ARE GOING TO CRESCENT PARK ON SATURDAY FOR A DAY OF FUN, FRESH AIR, AND A PICNIC POTLUCK EXTRAVAGANZA!”

Crescent park huh? You hadn’t been there since you were a kid. You tried to run your schedule through your head, and when that fail you quickly dug through your purse for your day-timer. Hm, you had something later in the afternoon. Drat. “What time?”

“ELEVEN AM SHARP!”

“I can come for a few hours at least. Anything I should bring?”

“ACTUALLY YES! SINCE IT IS GOING TO BE A POTLUCK EXTRAVAGANZA, EVERYONE HAS BEEN ASKED TO BRING A FOOD ITEM. TORIEL IS BRINGING THE ENTRÉE AND FRUIT, ASGORE THE DRINKS, UNDYNE AND ALPHYS ASSORTED SNACKS, AND I HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED SOMETHING CALLED PASTA SALAD! OH! AND FRISK SAYS THEY’RE HELPING WITH THE FRUIT TOO, AND I SUPPOSE SANS WILL TRY TO LAY CLAIM TO MY PASTA AS WELL, THE LAZY BONES. THAT LEAVES DESERT AND FINGER FOOD! THE CHOICE IS YOURS.”

That didn’t take much debate. “I’ll take desert, then.”

“NYEH HEH HEH! EXCELLET CHOICE—WHAT IS IT FRISK? GASP! YOU ARE CORRECT! IF WE DO NOT LEAVE NOW YOU WILL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL! APOLOGIES HUMAN, I MUST BID YOU ADIEU. BUT DO NOT FEAR—I SHALL TEXT YOU THE DETAILS POSTHASTE!” There was a rhythmic thumping, like someone running up the stairs, followed by a loud bang. “SANS! SANS WAKE UP!”

And there was the dial tone. You pulled your cell from your ear and blinked owlishly at it, before shaking your head and locking it. You felt like you’d just caught a brief insight into the skeleton brother’s mornings. Wait, why did he even call you if it was right before he had to leave with Frisk? And, as a follow up, why was Frisk even with him? You were under the impression that Toriel was their adopted mother, if what Mettaton had told you was correct. With a shake of your head you dismissed the questions. Who knew? It was still nice of Papyrus to call, despite the early wake up.

With one last yawn and a long stretch, you know the kind, you headed for the shower.

_Evie: Couldn’t have just invited me yourself later?_

_Mettaton: And miss your grumpy morning attitude? Never. Also, I can’t make it._

_Evie: … wait really?_

_Mettaton: Shooting for my new movie._

Anxiety thrummed through you, sudden and uninvited. Mettaton wasn’t going? Uh oh. Oh no. You didn’t know if you wanted to go without him. He was your fall back, your point of contact. This wasn’t your usual schmoozing with other famous people or industry grunts. This was another event with real people you wanted to be real friends with. Although, if the last time you hung out was any indication, you had a solid footing with the majority of them already, but still. What if you ended up defaulting to Evie, singer/songwriter? What if they didn’t like you when Mettaton wasn’t there?

_Mettaton: And don’t you dare think of bailing._

How predictable were you?

_Evie: I wasn’t!_

_Mettaton: Sure you weren’t._

_Mettaton: Go_

_Mettaton: Have fun_

_Mettaton: Take pictures_

_Evie: Fine fine. I promise I’ll go_

_Mettaton:_ (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

_Mettaton: You’ll enjoy yourself you know you will_

And with that you solidified the idea of going in your mind. You would go, you’d have fun, and you’d be yourself.

After stripping and hopping under the near scalding spray of the shower, your thoughts took different turn, accompanied by foggy anxiety, the sense that you were doing something _wrong_. You hadn’t told Peter about your escapade last week, and didn’t intend too, but here you were breaking his rules again. You should have told him. You should tell him now. You needed to tell him that you planned to meet up with monsters _again_ , that you wanted to be friends with them. You should call him.

You stopped yourself short of grabbing your phone, determination thrumming through you and clearing your thoughts. Call Peter? Tell him you were actively befriending a group of monsters? You could already imagine the shouting match that would result, the endless argument. No thank you, you’d rather avoid that. You felt guilty, actively choosing to lie to him like this, but what could he do? You were technically an adult; you could do what you wanted. You shook off the lingering slivers of unease and stepped back into the shower, letting the hot water fuel your resolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think I was kidding? I told you nothing happens. To be fair, I just wanted to get something written and published and the next chapter is probably going to be really long once I get it done so... fight me? Author out!


	8. Get Pranked On

Saturday, half past ten in the morning. You looked over your list one last time, mentally checking off the items as you made visual confirmation. Brownies? Check. Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies? Check. Rhubarb crisp in mason jars? Check. Whip cream? Check. You needed it for the rhubarb crisp of course.

All in all, you were pretty proud of yourself. It had been a nice change of pace, pulling out all the old family recipes while trying to decide what to make. There was something cathartic about baking—the process of measuring, mixing, and waiting for the timer to ding. Nothing better than barely waiting long enough for your delicious creation to cool enough to eat without searing your tongue… barely. Because even if you burned your tongue it was worth the pain.

You started grabbing containers and loading them into the canvas bag you’d selected for transport, briefly sending a wish that your friends liked them as much as you enjoyed baking them. You were sure they would—who didn’t like cookies and brownies? But it never hurt.

You darted into the bathroom to cast one last glance at your reflection, to make sure your outfit was still okay. It was the same as the last three times you’d checked. But what could you say? Old habits died hard. As you caught you glanced down at your outfit that hazy anxious feeling took root again. Should you really be going? You met your reflections eyes. No. You were going, and you were going to have a fabulous time.

You didn’t drive very often, but you kept a car in good repair in the garage just in case. The drive was rather quick, following the vaguely remembered roads to Crescent Park. You used to go all the time as a kid—it was the perfect family spot with lots of open green space, a massive playground that had stood the test of time, and a waterpark in the summer.

You arrived at ten to eleven—right on time. Despite the variety of humans and monsters flitting about on the grass, setting up picnics and BBQ’s of their own, it didn’t take you long to track down Toriel and Frisk. You felt nervous excitement thrum through you in time with your heart beat, but you kept steady. They’d chosen the perfect spot. Several blankets had already been set up on the grass to accommodate the group size, half in the sun and half under the shade of a huge tree.

You trotted over, watching as Toriel’s expression shifted from confusion to wary recognition. It looked like you were the first one there. You glanced around for Frisk, knowing they wouldn’t be far, and spotted them hanging upside down from the monkey bars.

“Hello,” you chirped as you drew closer, waving again. Something else caught your attention as you approached. Something small and yellow and… that was a potted plant. Why did they bring a potted plant?

“(y/n), hello! We’re so glad you could make it.” Toriel smiled, rising to her feet and sweeping towards you in one graceful motion, distracting you. She enveloped you in a warm hug, which you happily returned, before stepping back and giving you a once over. “You are (y/n)… yes?”

“As far as I know,” you grinned, fluffing your wig and sweeping a few loose strands from your face. “Well, at least 90% of me is.”

That earned you a light laugh and small smile. Not your best, to be fair. “Good. I was fairly certain it was you, but one can never be too careful. You are more… pink, then I remember.”

“That I am. I felt like it was fitting to match the season. It’s just a wig, though.” A very convincing wig. It was shoulder length, and as soft as real hair that was well maintained. Cut straight with bangs that brushed your eyebrows, and in a rose gold sort of pink.

“Ah, well,  _ colour _ me impressed.”

You grinned, but promptly lost your smile and breath when you were bowled into by a small, brown haired child wearing a purple and blue striped sweater. You wheezed out a laugh at their smile, so wide it nearly split their face in half. “Hey Frisk, how’s it going?”

They jumped up and down a few times, jostling you, before letting go and signing something rapidly. You were about to remind them that you couldn’t speak sign language when they remembered and dove for their phone. After a moment of furious typing, in which you took the time to put down your bags, Frisk handed their phone to you.

The notes app was open and read:  _ I’m so happy you made it! Mom said you might be busy and that I shouldn’t get my hopes up even though you said yes when Papyrus asked you because he didn’t give you a time but I was sure you’d come! What did you bring? You brought desert, right? Are you staying the whole time? No one told me if you were staying the whole time. _

You couldn’t help but laugh as you hand back their phone. “Yeah, I brought desert. Cookies and brownies and rhubarb crisp. Hey, don’t make that face.” Their face was scrunched up from the thought of sour rhubarb. “It’s really sweet I promise! Plus, there’s whip cream. And unfortunately, I can only stay for a few hours— I have a rehearsal at two.”

Frisk nodded in understanding, then began typing again.  _ That’s okay. That’s still, what, like two hours? We can have loads of fun. _

“All the fun.”

“Sounds like a pain,” a sour, high pitched voice quipped. Frisk’s face lifted in realization, and they trotted over to the flower you’d noticed earlier before scooping it up and carrying it over.

_ I forgot earlier to introduce you! This is Flowey! He’s a flower. He’s one of my friends from the Underground. _

“Hello Flowey, it’s nice to meet you,” you offered on a smile.

“Can’t say I share the sentiment.”

Frisk frowned and spun away, depositing Flowey back on his corner of the blanket.  _ Sorry, he doesn’t get out much. And he’s in a bad mood. And he didn’t really want to come… it’s probably best you don’t talk to him much. _

“Oh. Well I’m sure he’s quite nice when he’s in a good mood?”

_ Not really. _ Frisk shrugged.  _ But he’s trying. _

You didn’t really know what to say to that. You supposed it was good of them to bring him along anyway? Even though he seemed to be playing on a phone now, completely ignoring the nature that surrounded him. Not like you hadn’t done the same on occasion… so you decided to be at least pleasant towards him, and not bother him more than necessary.

Frisk latched onto your arm and tore you from your thoughts, bouncing excitedly while jumping on the spot. Your gaze followed their outstretched finger, and saw Undyne, Alphys, Papyrus and Sans. And then they were gone, tearing off towards the group and throwing themselves at whoever would catch them first. You waved when they noticed you, already mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

You stood by what you said—Sans had started a war by challenging you, and you were determined to take the first battle for yourself. You kept your eye on the approaching group, while discreetly preparing for the coming prank. Hand buzzer on your right hand? Check. Whip cream? Dispensed. Now you just had to wait.

“EXCELLENT!” Papyrus declared as he reached the blanket. “IT SEEMS ALMOST EVERYONE IS IN ATTENDANCE! ARE WE JUST WAITING ON THE HUMAN AND THE KING? ALSO! WHO IS THIS PINK HAIRED HUMAN?”

“Hi Papyrus,” you giggled, careful to keep your hands behind your back. “Don’t recognized me huh?”

Realization dawned. “GASP! HUMAN? WHAT A CLEVER DISGUISE! AHEM, BUT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WAS ABLE TO SEE THROUGH IT IN AN INSTANT! I SIMPLY DID NOT ONE TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS.”

“I appreciate it. I’m incognito today, trying to blend it.” You nodded.

“You’re such a WEIRDO! Now you stand out more! And PINK?” Undyne roared, reaching over to sweep you into a hug. Or a noogie. You weren’t sure, but you somehow managed to duck out of the way. The prank force was strong with this one.

“What are you talking about? Pink is the manliest colour. It’s just a few shades away from red, right?”

“SHE’S RIGHT! AND EVERYONE KNOWS RED IS THE BEST AND STRONGEST OF COLOURS.”

“well i for one am tickled pink.  _ colour  _ me impressed.” Sans chimed in.

“Oof, you need to up your pun game there man, Toriel already used that one.”

“ouch, welp,  _ hue _ better prepare yourself, i have a whole  _ chart _ i’ve been waiting to bust out.”

“I’m _absolute_ -ly ready.” You grinned, offering you hand to shake. He eyes you skeptically, but ultimately reached for your hand. He feinted though, reaching to grab your hand from the back in order to flip it over.

“see, thing about pranks is they don’t work more than once unless they’re  _ really  _ good.”

“HUMAN I AM SHOCKED! I WOULD EXPECT SUCH HIGH JINKS FROM SANS BUT FROM SUCH AN EXTEEMED MEMBER OF THE PERFORMANCE ARTS?” Papyrus all but wailed.

_ Oh Papyrus, you are going to be so very disappointed in me _ . You just smiled.

“also, you might want to come up with something better than a hand buzzer next time you want to take on the prank mas—”

_ PLAF _ .

Stunned silence. You pulled your hand away from the side of Sans head slightly, watching with satisfaction as his eye lights shrunk in shock. You hadn’t hit him hard, not at all. Barely more than a tap on the corner of his mouth, but enough to send the generous dollop of whipped cream over his temple, chin, cheek and teeth. You allowed yourself to worry for a moment, when he didn’t react, but then the shock turned into something you couldn’t quite read. Realization? Awe? Impressed pride? And the look was gone, and he was laughing. A real, belly laugh that knocked everyone else out of their daze. Undyne burst into uproarious laughter, Frisk collapsing to the ground in a fit of their own silent giggles, Alphys looking appropriately shock, but still trying to stifle her giggles. 

“You were saying?” You grinned, revealing the remaining sweet treat on your palm and fingers before cleaning some of it off.

“(y/n),” Toriel scolded, tutting. “Such a waste of perfectly good food.”

“You have to admit it was pretty  _ sweet _ .”

“you really  _ creamed  _ me.” Sans finally managed around his laughter, accepting the napkin Toriel offered.

“Just trying to  _ whip _ you into shape.” 

“i’ll admit it was a  _ dairy _ good prank.”

“I thought you’d find it a- _ moos _ -ing.” You were barely keeping it together at this point, trying to swallow your laughter.

“maybe a little  _ cheesy _ .”

“OH MY GOD, WOULD YOU STOP!” Papyrus screeched. “DAIRY PRODUCTS ARE RUINED FOREVER AT THIS POINT.”

“aw, paps, no need to have a  _ cow _ .”

And you both lost it, devolving into shameless laughter that had you gasping for breath. You were awarded with a few scattered giggles and groans, but their recovery was much quicker than yours and Sans. When you finally managed to recover enough to look around, you noticed the others had dispersed— Papyrus and Undyne scaling a pair of trees with Frisk watching from the ground nearby. Or cheering them on? Timing them? Anyway, Toriel and Alphys were missing, but a quick glance around revealed them walking off towards the entrance of the park. They probably forgot something.

“man, that was great. really tickled my funny bone.” 

“It was pretty  _ humorous _ , no?” You sighed, dropping your napkin in the makeshift trash cleverly placed on the corner of the picnic blanket and brushing your hands a few times. “1:0.”

“1:0?” He questioned, scrubbing at the whipped cream on the side of his skull.

You nodded. “Yep. Well, it should be 2:0, since I also got you when you walked me home, but I’ll give you a pass on that one. I am nothing if not fair, when it comes to prank wars.”

“oh? if that’s how you’re scoring it, it would be 2:2, since i got you with the hand buzzer twice.”

“2:1, since it wasn’t a contest until after the first time,” you argued.

He grinned, depositing his napkin in the trash bag as well. “you drive a hard bargain, kid. guess i’ll have to  _ step up _ my game.” He punctuated his play on words by taking a step towards you.

“Don’t  _ push _ your luck.” You pushed him gently, forcing him to step back a bit and earning a snicker. 

“Yes, yes, you’re  _ disgustingly  _ cute together. Can you just kiss and move on please?” Flowey whined, reminding you of his presence. You sputtered and blushed, retreating hastily and putting more space between Sans and you. Woah, woah, woah, you were barely friends with the guy. No  _ way _ you were considering kissing him. Right? Right. No question about it. It wasn’t going to happen. Right? Right.

“pft, yeah right. don’t know if you’ve noticed, weed, but i don’t have lips.” Sans said, sounding completely unruffled, toeing the side of Flowey’s pot, threatening to tip it over.

“Hey! Watch it, trash-bag,” Flowey hissed, slapping Sans’ foot with his leaves.

“who invited you anyway? last i heard you were  _ grounded _ .” The look in Sans’ eyes sent a chill down your spine and had you taking a step back. The lights had lost all warmth, and your gut suddenly whispered  _ run _ .

“Please do not start another argument.” Toriel interrupted, eyes narrowed sternly. She and Alphys had returned, along with another monster who looked a lot like Toriel. Only giant. And with blonde hair and a beard. It took you a moment, but you recognized him as the King of Monsters. Oh. Did anyone mention he was coming? Papyrus perhaps when he called you, but his name completely slipped your mind. You only recognized him from the few photos and news stories you’d seen.

“Tsk, it’s not an argument if I’m right,” Flowey asserted. He shrunk under the intense mom stare Toriel leveled with him though, and wisely bit back any other retort. 

Toriel turned to Sans, who had settled against the trunk of the three while you weren’t looking. “You as well, Sans. We are here for a pleasant picnic, and we will have a pleasant picnic.” He clicked his tongue affirmatively and shot Toriel a one handed finger gun before settling with his eyes closed and both hands behind his head. You deduced that this was an occasional occurrence, but you wondered how occasional it actually was. There was history here, one you didn’t think you’d ever be privy to.

The king cleared his throat, drawing your attention away from the odd situation. You met his eye, and he offered a hand. “Howdy, I do not believe we have met. I am Asgore, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

You placed your hand in his, shocked for a moment by the sheer size difference before he moved your hand in a solid shake. You were shaking hands with royalty. You momentarily lost you tongue, but managed to make it through an introduction.“Hi! (y/n), I’m (y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ah, yes, Frisk speaks often of you. All good things, I assure you.”

And speaking of the devil, Frisk had once again sprinted to the blanket to throw themselves at Asgore, who happily hugged them and lifted them onto his shoulders with a chuckle, delighting the child to no end. 

“Well.” Toriel clapped. “Since everyone is here, shall we eat?”

And so you did. Spots were claimed, food was distributed, and conversation was enjoyed. You ended up sandwiched between Papyrus and Frisk, across from Toriel and Sans, and ended up enjoying yourself immensely. Once again you were struck with an odd sense of contentment and familiarity, the ease in which you were accepted into the group shocking and delighting you. It was so much easier to simply be yourself this time, and it seemed to pay off. You really had to thank Mettaton next time you saw him— the suffering induced by his gloating would be worth it. It had been a long time since you’d had friends who didn’t seem to treat you any differently because of your profession. Then again, it wasn’t like you were the most famous being in attendance. And they didn’t expect you to treat them with reverence either. If was the first time in a while you’d been able to truly relax in a social setting. 

By the time everyone finished eating, you could write the picnic off as a verifiable success. Most of the food had been polished off, and the tea Asgore supplied was the perfect way to wash it all done. As soon as they’d finished, Frisk dashed off to the playground, Papyrus in close pursuit. You stood and stretched as well, eyeing the monkey bars with interest.

“Are you leaving, (y/n)?” Toriel asked from where she’d been gathering used paper plates. You’d offered to help clean up, but she’d brushed you off, saying that the adults would take care of clean up and that you should enjoy yourselves. By adults, apparently she just meant her and Asgore. 

“Not just yet. But those monkey bars over there are calling my name.” You answered. 

“you should probably see a shrink about that.” Sans commented from his relaxed position. He’d migrated slightly during lunch, but was now laying on his back with his feet propped against the tree trunk. He looked rather comfortable, and sleepy. You got the feeling he was the kind of person who could fall asleep anywhere. 

“Hey now, there’s no need for that. Leave the monkeying around to the professionals.”

You trotted over to the playground, Frisk spotting your approach and waving enthusiastically from the top of the slide with Papyrus. “HUMAN! HAVE YOU COME TO AID US IN OUR QUEST TO CLAIM THE PLAYGROUND?”

“Not quite,” you called back, snagging one of the bars and swinging your legs to hook on the next. The wiggle shimmy required to pull yourself between the bars and up onto them was more difficult than you remembered;  not due to lack of flexibility but because of an increase in shoulder width, but you managed. Once you were properly seated you threw your arms up in victory and declared, “I am the lord of the monkey bars! None shall challenge my absolute rule!”

“FRISK HAS TOLD ME TO TELL YOU THAT YOUR REIGN IS INFERIOR TO OURS, AS WE CONTROL THE SLIDE! AND I AGREE!”

“HA! You weenies— clearly the climbing wall is far superior!” Undyne challenged, scrambling to the top. It did offer an excellent view if you climbed to the top, and hand holds on either side.

“i don’t know guys, this ground is pretty comfy.” Sans offered, legs crossed and hands resting on his ribcage. You had no idea when he’d gotten there, but there he was, just beyond the kiddy slide. 

“Dude, you’re literally laying on gravel.”

“eh, it’s a bit of a  _ rocky _ relationship.”

Papyrus stopped his foot, clapping his hands over Frisk’s mouth to stop them from laughing. “SANS AUTOMATICALLY LOSES.” 

Frisk shook him off and started signing rapidly to Undyne, challenge flashing in her eyes. She looked three seconds away from launching herself at them. “Yeah RIGHT! Climbing is FAR superior to sliding! Only WEENIES take the EASY way! Papyrus— back me up!”

“I CANNOT DO THAT CAPTAIN UNDYNE! FOR YOU SEE, SLIDES NOT ONLY ALLOW FOR THE MOST CLEVER ESCAPE, BUT ALSO A UNIQUE CHALLENGE WHEN CLIMBING UP THEM. SLIDES CLEARLY OFFER THE MOST TACTICAL ADVANTAGES.”

Clearly this was going nowhere. “Look guys, this park is thirty-five percent monkey bars or some bar equivalent. You can’t get from one side of the park to the other on the climbing wall or slides but guess what? You can using the bars.”

“Those are FIGHTING words punk— prove it!” Undyne hollered, pointing accusingly at you.

“Easily!”

And thus began an epic battle of wills, tactical prowess, and physical capabilities. Basically, you started racing back and forth across the park, trying to prove who’s choice in equipment was the best. It involved a lot of intense parkour from all parties sans Sans (a joke you happily shared), and ended with no major injuries. Eventually it was decided that each equipment type offered their own tactical advantages, and each had something they excelled at. 

By the time you had to leave, you cheeks hurt from grinning and your muscles were pleasantly sore. You’d traded numbers with everyone in the group, and could successfully say you had gained a number of friends. Plans were made to include you in the next get together, and it was suggested you would have a turn deciding the days activities. 

When you finally managed to pull away, there was a 100% chance you would be late for work, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Even when Chris chewed you out for it. You threw yourself into work, but your thoughts remained light and you were filled with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't say I'm particularly proud of the chapter, but I just wanted it done and out. I went through several endings and wasn't happy with any of them. Anyway it's out now and I'm moving on ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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